A Slow Boil
by kts
Summary: Bella's an exchange student hoping to find a job to keep herself employed for the summer so that she can stay on at an exclusive University.  Her best job prospect is a part-time housekeeping position with one Mr. Cullen.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

"Miss Swan. Come in." The man was turned away from me seated behind his desk and I could only see the top of his head and his right hand which was holding up a piece of paper I recognized as my resume. The hand gestured to the two chairs in front of the desk and I quickly sat down on the one to the right, hoping to getting a better view of my potential new employer. He swiveled further away from me however, bringing my resume closer to his face.

"Thank you," I murmured, slipping my purse onto the floor next to me and folding my hands in my lap. I had worn a knee-length skirt and fought the nervous urge to play with the hem. Mr. Cullen remained silent. I heard him take a deep breath and exhale as I waited for him to begin the interview. I looked down at the Persian rug under my feet, admiring the rich colors and intricate patterns, then drew my eyes up to the heavy oak desk in front of me. I saw a laptop, a lamp and an array of papers but nothing else. The wall behind the desk was heavily curtained from floor to ceiling in a dark blue velvet that matched one of the colors in the rug; if there were windows behind the curtains they must be huge but no light permeated them, the lamp on the desk brightening the room on its own. The walls around me were painted in a warm taupe and to my right was a large painting that looked like an original abstract in similar blues and taupes as the rest of the room. I squinted and stretched my neck, trying to make out an artist's signature, wondering to myself if it was possible that I was in the same room as a Rothko.

"Do you like it?"

My attention flew back to the man across the desk. He had turned his chair to face me and was leaning back, his head a little to the side. Mr. Cullen was much younger than I'd expected, only in his early 30's if I had to guess, and was the handsomest man I'd ever laid eyes on. He had thick reddish-brown hair and eyebrows, chiseled cheekbones and a hard, firm jawline. His lips were full, his mouth set in a straight line, his eyes were blue, but his expression was flat, no welcoming smile in evidence.

He lifted his eyebrows as he waited for my answer.

"Yes. Yes, I like it very much."

'Tell me what you like about it."

I turned back to the painting. "Well, even though it's just two rectangles, the more you look at it, the more you sense a relationship between them. There's some tension, some pushing and pulling, as if they're both struggling to dominate the space." I suddenly felt embarrassed and added quickly, "Or maybe they're in perfect balance. I don't know. It's just my first impression."

"First impressions are very important." His ran his eyes briefly over me.

'My first impression is that you are overqualified for this job." He continued, as his eyes scanned back to my resume. "You're in college, studying anthropology. You've worked a small assortment of desk jobs. There's nothing here that would suggest your ability, let alone interest, in performing more menial tasks. You're obviously an intelligent young woman, even able to speak quite articulately about a painting you've only just seen. So tell me, Miss Swan, why do you want to be my part-time housekeeper?"

I clutched my hands together a little tighter and debated how to answer him. They tell you to sell yourself in interviews and to flatter the interviewer but somehow I didn't think those kinds of tactics would have much effect on Mr. Cullen. I decided to go with the truth.

"I need an income for the summer, and I'm not a resident. I have a student visa but not a work permit. I've been at Noble University as an exchange student for the past year but the term ends in three weeks and unless I can find a way to support myself, I'll have to go home. I'd much rather try to stay here for the summer and apply as a regular student next year. It's true that I don't have any experience as a housekeeper per se, but I grew up doing housework for my dad, and when Alice told me about this job, it sounded too good to be true, so I applied."

He kept his level gaze on mine while I spoke, his eyebrows pulled into a slight frown. When I finished, his frown deepened and he said, "I don't know anyone named Alice."

"Alice Whitlock, she's a friend of mine at school. She's the niece of your current housekeeper. She knew that her aunt had given notice and that you might be hiring a new one."

"I wasn't aware that Mrs. Whitlock had a niece." His tone implied the subject was now closed. He paused, still frowning.

"I assume you'd like to paid under the table, then."

I nodded. "Like I said, I don't have a work permit."

"You realize that you're asking me to bend if not break the law by doing so."

This wasn't going well. His manner thus far had been polite, but not exactly pleasant. I began to wonder why he'd bothered to arrange an interview only to challenge me for applying in the first place.

"It was my understanding that these kinds of arrangements are made all the time with students and that no one really cares, but if it's a problem then please forgive me for wasting your time."

He must have caught a whiff of my confusion as his tone softened. "Since your classes end soon, why aren't you looking for something full-time?"

"I'm looking for anything at this point, but I don't think I'll have much luck finding something full time without a permit. And part-time hours are fine with me. I just need to earn enough to live on."

"Where will you be staying? I assume the university has been providing your housing. Will that continue beyond the term when the exchange program ends?"

He'd touched directly on the second problem of my plan. I needed a place to live. I was hoping Alice would know someone who could rent me a room but I hadn't gotten around to asking her yet. I thought about hedging the truth because being on the verge of homelessness hardly recommended me as an employee, but again something about the way his eyes held my gaze made me answer honestly. He'd have made an excellent police detective. "I do need to find a place, but I'm resourceful. I'll come up with something."

My answer seemed to amuse him as a smile branched across his face. His eyes were a bluish grey, pale, and when he'd been frowning they'd looked steely. But when he smiled they lit his face, crinkling at the corners, transforming his handsomeness into something closer to beauty. I realized that I was losing focus, and bit the inside of my cheek to get my attention back where it belonged.

His smile quickly faded and he drummed his long fingers on his desk.

"Mrs. Whitlock was with me for almost four years and knew her job perfectly. I don't think I like the idea of training someone new only to have them leave in a few months."

"I can understand that. But look at it this way – I can be a temporary placeholder. I could start tomorrow. My classes are all in the mornings, so I can be here by noon. The term ends in three weeks and then I can be here any hours you wish. Classes don't start again until early September so I can work for you the whole summer while you continue your search for a permanent housekeeper. That will give you time to find the perfect person."

"Persuasive and resourceful," he said so quietly it might have been to himself.

He held my gaze again for a long minute without speaking, his expression inscrutable. Then a change came over his demeanor as if he'd come to a decision.

"Let me tell you more about the job. I'd want you to come in the early afternoon and remain until early evening. The hours themselves aren't important as long as you finish your work. There are certain tasks to be done on certain days and then there are tasks to be done every day. The most important daily task is making and serving my dinner. Can you cook?" I nodded. "Beyond an ability to make an edible dinner, everything else is routine – laundry, dusting, vacuuming, et cetera. I'm not a neat freak and won't be trailing around behind you looking for missed dust, but I do have one requirement that may take some getting used to. I work at home, in here, and I need absolute peace and quiet. I don't want to hear you or see you while you're here. No banging around, no stomping up and down the stairs, no whistling while you work, nothing. Under no circumstances are you to interrupt me or bother me. The only time I expect to see you is at six sharp in the dining room when you serve dinner. Do you think you can manage that?"

"Yes, but ..."

"There are no buts."

"Yes there are!"

"Ah, finally a negative trait. You're also argumentative."

"No, I'm not!"

His eyebrows rose again.

"I'm … inquisitive. How will I clean this room if you're always in it but I'm not to disturb you? And what if there's an emergency, a fire or something, can I interrupt you then?"

"Inquisitive. I'm not sure that's a positive trait in a housekeeper. You will clean this room on Wednesdays as I always go to town Wednesday afternoon. You may interrupt me if it's an emergency but it had better be a real honest-to-god emergency, not something like a spider in the bathtub."

"Fine."

"Fine. Lastly, the pay. I prefer to give you a lump sum each Friday than keep track of your hours. I pay $500 a week."

My eyes widened. "At the risk of sounding argumentative, that seems like too much. We're talking 5 or 6 hours a day, 5 days a week, right? That's only 25 to 30 hours, and nothing you described sounds too difficult."

"Some weeks you may not feel like you've earned the $500 but other weeks you may wish you'd negotiated for a higher salary. I have guests on occasion and will expect you to cook dinner for them as well. And I forgot to mention that I expect you to plan the menus and purchase the groceries. I have an account at Southbay's in town. You can stop by on your way to work and pick up whatever you need for each night's dinner. Trust me, the weeks when I have guests you will definitely earn your salary."

I nodded my acceptance of his terms. "Are you willing to give me a chance, then?"

"Yes, Miss Swan, I rather think I am. As this is Mrs. Whitlock's last week, why don't you come in Friday afternoon, say around three. I'll have her show you the ropes and you can leave before dinner. Then I'd like you to start on your own next Monday."

"Thank you so much, Mr. Cullen." I scooped up my purse and headed toward the door. "See you Friday then."

"No, you won't see me on Friday, just Mrs. Whitlock."

"Oh, right. Okay. Goodbye, then, Mr. Cullen."

"Goodbye, Miss Swan."


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2.

As I walked back into town, my thoughts were flying a mile a minute. I had actually managed to do it – get a job for the summer, one with reasonable hours and excellent pay. $500 a week was more than I could spend, even if I tried. My budgets had always been small and my luxuries things like books and an occasional meal out. Surely with $2000 a month to spend, a place to live would be easy to find. Mr. Cullen's house was two miles out of town, about a thirty minute walk. The closer I lived to him, the easier it would be, so I would start my search on the north side of town. My excitement continued to grow as I imagined being able to afford my own apartment. That would be pure luxury after a year of sharing a tiny dorm room with two other girls.

Yes, I was in full-on self-congratulatory mode until my mind veered back to Mr. Cullen. His demeanor made him seem older than he looked. He was so much younger than I'd expected, but so stiff and reserved. He didn't mince words, which I liked, but he clearly was used to giving orders and he obviously didn't get chummy with his employees. That was fine with me, I was looking for a job, not a friend, but still something about him intimidated me. I really hoped I could work quietly enough not to disturb him as it was easy to imagine his temper flaring. I was glad I would only be seeing him once a day, at dinner.

Hours later I was in the library finishing my first draft of a final paper due way too soon when my cell vibrated. It was Alice and I wanted to tell her about getting the job, so I packed my books and headed outside, hitting the call back number as I cleared the exit.

"Alice, I did it, I got the job!"

'Bella, that's great! I'm so excited! That means you get to stay here this summer! We're going to have so much fun!"

"I know, I know, but I still have to find a place to live. You don't happen to know anyone with a room to rent do you?"

"Not off the top of my head, but I can ask around. We'll find you something, that'll be easy. And fun. We can start looking this weekend."

"That'd be great. I appreciate it so much, Alice, your help with all of this, I mean, I couldn't do it without you."

'Oh Bella, I won't pretend to be completely altruistic here. I want you here for the summer so we can hang out together. I'm selfish like that."

I laughed, "Well, keep being selfish because it's working out great for me."

"Will do. Talk to you later."

"Bye."

I closed my phone and headed back to my room. My roommates were both still out so I did a little more work and then went to bed. My mind kept circling around issues I was working out in my papers, before it finally began to relax and wander off to imagine apartments. It wasn't long before I was thinking about the handsome Mr. Cullen. He was so … authoritative, more so than most of my professors, but there was something else about him I couldn't quite put my finger on. He'd seemed easily displeased, a frown his normal expression, but I remembered the way his face had lit up when he'd briefly smiled during the interview, the way his eyes crinkled at the corners, and thought how much I'd like to see him smile again. I wondered what it was going to be like serving him dinner, if he'd like my cooking, what his behavior would be like. Would he snap out orders at me or not even speak, expecting silence at dinner as well? Or would I see a more pleasant, amusable side of him? I finally gave up wondering and rolled over, pushing thoughts of Mr. Cullen out of my head. I'd find out soon enough.

Friday came up fast. Finals were approaching and I was busy with papers, papers, and more papers. Noble didn't cut exchange students any slack, that was for sure, and as an anthropology major I didn't get the luxury of memorizing mathematical formulas or tweaking biology lab results. No, I was expected to 'process information,' which meant reading tons of field studies and synthesizing the data into comprehensible, clear language that was wholly backed up by a plethora of footnotes and citations. It was exhausting, the attention to minutiae, and I found myself more than once looking forward to the summer when all I'd have to do was sweep a floor, dust a shelf, scrub a toilet, and I could consider myself done for the day. Housekeeping was looking pretty good at this point.

It was with that attitude that I headed out to Mr. Cullen's house around 2:30 Friday afternoon. I'd been too nervous my first time out here to appreciate how imposing the house was once it came into view. The facade was mostly stone, but the rooms on the upper floors had such huge windows that almost all I could see was glass. It was bigger than I'd realized, three stories tall, and looked like a daunting thing to keep clean. As I rang the doorbell, I wondered if my elation at getting this job had been premature.

"Bella, I'm so happy to see you again. Come in. Obviously your interview went well."

"I guess it did, Mrs. Whitlock. It's good to see you again, too."

"Thank you, Bella. Well, let's get started. I'll show you the kitchen first."

I followed her through the foyer, past what looked like a living room and through a hallway into an unbelievably perfect kitchen.

"Oh my god!" It escaped from my lips before I'd even formed the thought, but who could blame me? This was right out of a magazine. I noticed a Subzero refrigerator, Viking gas range, granite counter tops, a huge double sink … I was in heaven. Growing up in a tiny house, I'd had about a foot of counter space, an ancient electric stove, and a decrepit fridge to work with. This kitchen was the kind I'd always dreamed about having one day.

"Yes, it's very nice, isn't it?" Mrs. Whitlock politely answered my outburst. "You'll find everything you need here to make whatever you want. Let me show you around."

After showing me the well-stocked pantry, the storage cupboards of small appliances, the cutlery tools inside the island, as well as providing instructions in starting the dishwasher and setting up Mr. Cullen's morning coffee, Mrs. Whitlock turned toward a door at the far side of the room.

"Now, through here is the dining room. Mr. Cullen comes down promptly at six every evening and it's important you have his dinner ready to serve then or shortly thereafter. He doesn't like to wait. But don't bring it out any earlier, either." We walked through the swinging door and into a large room that was furnished with a table and six chairs, a sideboard, and a liquor cabinet. Velvet curtains again lined one wall from floor to ceiling and were drawn closed, allowing in no natural light. Mrs. Whitlock flicked a switch on the wall and a chandelier sparkled to life above the table. She showed me the place settings, napkins, and silverware in the sideboard, and then described how Mr. Cullen liked his martinis, if he should ask for one. I was concentrating on memorizing the number of olives he liked when Mrs. Whitlock's tone changed.

"Now, Mr. Cullen will want you to wait in the kitchen while he eats. He'll call you in if he needs anything. You can sit at the island and eat your own dinner until he does."

"All right. I guess I can handle that." I had the distinct impression she was omitting something.

"Good. After he's finished eating, he'll get up and leave through there." She pointed to another door on the opposing wall. "Once he's left, you clear his dishes, wipe down the table, clean the kitchen, start the dishwasher, set up his coffee to brew in the morning, and that's it. Then you're done for the day and may leave. He won't expect you to say good-bye. Just make sure you lock the back door behind yourself. Do you have any question thus far?"

"What does Mr. Cullen like to eat?"

"You know, I've never asked him. He's always eaten everything I've made him without a complaint, so I'd have to say he likes simple meals, nothing fancy."

"Is there anything he doesn't like?"

"Again, I don't know. I'm a little embarrassed to admit that after four years here, but I don't ever remember him complaining about anything I served, or telling me not to serve it again. He prefers healthy foods, so go easy on the fat and salt, but a dessert now and then will get you into his good graces faster than anything else. You know men."

"Yeah," I shrugged knowingly, while realizing that the only man I'd ever cooked for had eaten only things you could melt cheese on, douse in barbecue sauce, or slather in mayonnaise and I'd never baked a pie or cake in my life. But I'd always wanted to, and I'd always wanted to try cooking fancier meals. I was looking forward this part of the job immensely.

We went back into the kitchen and Mrs. Whitlock showed me a slim binder that outlined which days I was to do perform which task. The laundry and dinner would be the two things I would do every day. Other than that, each day had its own assigned task. On Mondays I would dust the entire house. Tuesday was vacuuming day. Wednesday was the day I'd clean the office. Thursdays I'd sweep and mop all the wood and tile floors, and Fridays were the days I'd do the bathrooms plus any incidentals Mr. Cullen wanted completed at the end of the week.

"Let me show you the utility closet." She led me to a door that opened to a descending stairway. As we headed downstairs, she reassured me that Mr. Cullen was a perfectly reasonable employer as long as I completed the work. Even though they were alone together in the house most afternoons, she rarely saw him, even more rarely spoke to him. The key to success was silence, she'd figured out. "He really values that above all else. If you can be quiet, no matter what you're doing, he'll be happy with the results."

"Okay, but how am I supposed to vacuum silently?"

Opening the door to a walk-in closet full of cleaning equipment, she pointed to a fancy looking contraption. "This vacuum cleaner is a new model, state-of-the-art, from Europe. It barely makes a sound."

"That's amazing. But what about when I'm fixing dinner? When the Cuisinart is running, the exhaust fan is blowing, the coffee beans are grinding? How am I supposed to do those things silently?"

"I didn't show you when we were in the kitchen, but there's a sliding door that you can pull closed and it seems to work effectively. I never heard any complaints from Mr. Cullen, so I assume it works."

Then she led me to the laundry room which was also in the basement, showed me how to work the machines and reiterated that Mr. Cullen liked his laundry washed daily, even if there wasn't much.

"Do you have any questions?" Mrs. Whitlock asked.

"Where do I find his dirty clothes and what do I do with his laundry when it's done?"

"Let me show his room."

She led me up three flights of stairs to the top floor of the house.

"All of these rooms are unused unless Mr. Cullen has company. But this is his room right here." She stopped and pushed open the door. To say that entering Mr. Cullen's inner sanctum felt like an invasion of privacy was an understatement. While his office had been barren of personal affects, this room was a testament to the man's inner self. The bed was huge and prominent, covered in a deep red silk. Paintings took up all available wall space. The dresser was overflowing with photographs, so many that even more had been pushed up into the frame of the mirror suspended above it.

"Where do I put his clothes?" I asked quietly as I pulled myself away from a particularly fetching photograph of a young tow-headed boy on a swing.

"His boxers and t-shirts go in this drawer. His socks here. Jeans here. Dress clothes go in the closet on hangers. Put newly laundered clothes on the bottom of the pile so that he's always drawing on the oldest washed. Make sense?"

"Yes. Perfect sense." Then I couldn't help myself and I gestured to all the photographs on the dresser. "Who are all these people?"

"Mr. Cullen's family. You might get to meet them if they visit again this summer, although I'm not sure they enjoyed themselves last year." She stopped herself, realizing she was on the verge of gossiping about her employer, and quickly changed the subject. "The hamper is in his bathroom – that's where you'll find his dirty clothes and towels. And he likes fresh sheets on his bed once a week. I usually change them on Fridays when I'm up here cleaning his bathroom. The linen closet's here."

We walked back into the hallway. "I think that's about it. I'll give you a key to the back entrance and then we're done, unless you have any more questions."

"No. I think I've got this, I think I can do it."

"Good. I'm sure you can."

But as she descended the stairs in front of me, I realized I had one more question.

"Mrs. Whitlock, there is one more thing I'm curious about. Can I ask why you're leaving?"

She turned around quickly and glanced to her left. I realized we were on the landing just outside Mr. Cullen's office. She took hold of my elbow and pulled me down the remaining stairs, through the hall and into the kitchen. Once there, she pulled a door out of a recess and closed it tightly. Ah, the sliding door.

"Bella, I just want you to know that I'm leaving because I want to, not because Mr. Cullen asked me to."

"Okay, but why?"

"Why? Why does anyone do anything? My time here was up. I need new things to do."

I nodded, accepting her explanation, but looked at her expectantly, hoping she'd say more.

I watched her debate inwardly whether to go on. Then she sighed and said, "Mr. Cullen is very particular about certain things, dinner being one of them, the way he likes to be waited on." She folded her hands in front of her, rubbing her fingers together. "I've never liked that part of the job, making dinner and serving it. I don't mind doing housework for a living, but I'm not a waitress. I tolerated it because the hours are easy and the pay is good, but I don't know, this last year it's just been too much. He's gotten more demanding, harder to please. I don't like being made to feel like a servant." She looked at me carefully. "He's not a bad person, just difficult in some respects."

"He made you feel like a servant?"

"Not all the time. Like I said, I rarely see him until dinner, but this last year, I don't know, he's started snapping at me, treating me like I'm beneath him. It's gotten to the point that I don't enjoy working here any more." She gave me a reassuring smile. "But hopefully you won't have that problem since you're only here for the summer."

"If he tries to treat me like that, I'm out of here." She patted my elbow and said that she knew I'd be okay, and I assured her that of course I'd be fine. But there was no denying the tiny frisson of emotion that ran through my body as she waved goodbye to me from the back door and I headed back to town. I tried to identify what I was feeling. Anxiety, yes, nervousness, yes, but it was more than just being apprehensive about starting a new job. I was feeling something else as well, and the closest I could come to identifying it was anticipation.

**A/N: Thank you so much to everyone who read, favorited, and especially reviewed the first chapter of this story. I've been a longtime lurker here and finally got the courage and inspiration to try my hand at writing; posting this is surprisingly nerve-wracking for me, but on the plus side I've got most of it written so I should be able to update frequently. On the minus side, I've written it beta-free so any mistakes are mine alone. Thanks again for reading - kts.**


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

"No, this won't do. Not at all." Alice was in the living room of the third apartment we'd looked at that morning, her eyes on the street outside the window. "You can't live right off the sidewalk like this. It isn't safe."

I agreed with her that this place wasn't ideal, but my definition of acceptable living quarters had begun to shift after seeing what was still available in town. Apparently the best apartments had been snapped up much earlier in the spring by other students staying for the summer. All that seemed to be left were the seediest, least safe options. The first place we'd looked at had the moldiest bathroom I'd ever smelled. The second place was as small as my dorm room and didn't even have a kitchen. This one was more spacious, and at least it was clean, but as Alice had pointed out, the front door was mere feet from one of the busiest streets in town.

"It's just for the summer, Alice. I'm sure I'd survive."

A truck drove past just then, its engine so loud I couldn't hear Alice's response.

"It must get quieter at night, right?" I offered.

A man walked by on the sidewalk. He looked in at me as he passed, so close that if not for the glass between us I could have reached out and touched him. Living here would be like living in a store front.

Alice shook her head. "We'll keep looking. There must be some place decent left. Let's go get lunch and look through the ads again."

We found a bistro down the street and Alice pored over the rental ads while we ate, rattling off descriptions. I paid attention for as long as I could but found my mind eventually wandering. When I realized she was no longer speaking, I looked up and she was watching me with a smile on her face.

"Earth to Bella."

"Sorry, Alice. I guess I'm done with apartments for the day."

"That's okay. We still have time. Two more weeks, right? We'll find you something."

We continued eating in companionable silence for a while before I gave into an impulse that had been digging at me all morning.

"Alice, do you know anything else about Edward Cullen? Besides what you told me before, I mean."

"No, I really don't. I think he's a writer. He keeps to himself, doesn't socialize, so no one knows very much about him."

"I asked your aunt why she was leaving and she said that in the last year or so he started treating her like a servant, like she was beneath him. Did she ever mention that to you?"

"No, but like I said, she never talked about her job much." She paused and I could see her mind working. "There was one time, though, when she and Uncle Ernest came over for dinner about six months ago. We were all at the table and I guess the conversation must have been too loud because she didn't hear the first time Uncle Carlisle asked her to pass him something. The second time he had to raise his voice and it came out sounding more like a command than a request and she yelled at him, 'Don't you ever speak to me like that!' And she left the table in tears."

"Whoa. Was she okay?"

"Yeah, my mom went after her, and I guess calmed her down. I'd forgotten all about it until just now when you asked about her job." She looked at me carefully. "Are you worried about working for Mr. Cullen? I never would have mentioned the job to you if my aunt had given me any indication that he was difficult."

"No, I'm not worried, just puzzled. He was perfectly nice during the interview." The waiter came to clear our plates and give us the check. While we were divvying up the bill and sorting out cash from our wallets, I shrugged off my concerns with a laugh. "Besides, I'm only going to be seeing him once a day at dinner, how awful could he get?"

"Awful enough for my aunt to quit, apparently." Alice said under her breath. "But you're right," she added as we left the restaurant started our walk back to campus. "Just like we might not find the perfect apartment, no job is ever perfect either. Let's just concentrate on getting through finals and not worry about things that may or may not happen. Two weeks from now, we'll be free of school and can start having some fun. We should plan a weekend trip. Where's the first place we should go?"

The rest of the weekend flew by. Alice and I both had too much schoolwork to look at apartments on Sunday, so we spent most of the day in the library. Monday morning one of my professors decided to change the final paper requirements to include an oral presentation. There were only 12 students in this seminar, and we were scheduled for half-hour presentations beginning next week. Great, I thought, just what I need. More work.

Before I knew it, the class had ended and it was time for me to head out for my first day at Mr. Cullen's. I dropped off my books in my room, ran a quick brush through my hair and put it up in a pony-tail, decided my jeans and t-shirt were fine, and grabbed my purse. Southbay's was the nicest grocery store in town and luckily only a few blocks from campus. I knew the deli section well as this was often where I came to indulge myself in real food when I needed a break from the cafeteria, but today I grabbed a hand basket and set off for the meat section at the back. I didn't have a recipe in mind, but figured I couldn't go wrong with steak, fried potatoes and a salad. Nothing exciting or gourmet, but easy enough for my first day.

Looking through the case at the various cuts, I realized I didn't know how much to spend. The tenderloins were $15 a pound, the flank steaks on sale for $8. I decided to err on the side of caution and asked the man behind the counter to wrap up a flank steak for me.

"Can I get you anything else?" He asked as he affixed the price sticker and handed me the wrapped bundle.

"No, that's it, but I'm supposed to put this on Mr. Cullen's account, and I don't know if I do that through you or up at the checkout stand."

"Oh! You must be the new housekeeper! I'm Mike," he stretched his arm over the top of the case and took mine in an energetic shake.

"I'm Bella, it's nice to meet you. Today's my first day, so I'm still learning how this goes."

"Well, as far as putting things on Mr. Cullen's account, that's handled up front once you have everything that you need. What I can help you with specifically now that I know this steak is for Mr. Cullen is that you should get the tenderloin instead of the flank."

"I was wondering about that but didn't know how much I should spend.'

"Mrs. Whitlock always bought the best available fish and meat. She told me once that Mr. Cullen didn't care what he ate as long as it was the best we had."

"Good to know," I said, handing him back the flank steak. "Do you mind exchanging this for a nice tenderloin for me then?"

"Not at all, Bella." He quickly made the exchange and winked at me when he handed me the new package. "I'm looking forward to seeing you here often."

I headed over to the produce section and added a bag of small red potatoes, some mushrooms and a head of lettuce to my basket. I wondered if Mr. Cullen would have salad dressing, but I could whip together a vinaigrette if he didn't. I should marinate the steaks in something … red wine? I grabbed a bottle, this time not choosing anything too expensive since it was for marinating, not drinking. That ought to do it, I thought to myself as I headed up to the cashiers. Checking out was a breeze, quicker than actually paying. Southbay's obviously had had this arrangement with Mr. Cullen for a long time.

The walk to Mr. Cullen's was uneventful although the bag of groceries had grown uncomfortably heavy by the time I arrived. It occurred to me that walking to work wasn't going to be pleasant if I ever had to bring a gallon of milk or bag of flour. Well, I could get a backpack or something I supposed. At the back door I put the groceries down gently, careful of the wine bottle, and fished the key out of my purse. The door opened noiselessly and I found myself tiptoeing in. The house was so quiet it was almost unnerving. You'd never know there was anyone here. I made my way to the kitchen and pulled the sliding door closed, exhaling for the first time. I took in the beautiful kitchen for a moment and again felt a little pulse of excitement at having this gorgeous room at my disposal. "Well, let's get to it," I said to myself quietly, and fished out a casserole dish in which to marinate the steak. I washed the potatoes, cut them up and put them in a pan to simmer on the gas stove, which I couldn't help but caress. Oh, I did love this kitchen. The lettuce and mushrooms went into the fridge, which I happily noticed was well-stocked with milk and other heavy items. I put the half-empty wine bottle in the pantry, where I found an assortment of unopened salad dressings, along with a variety of flavored oils and vinegars. I guessed I'd decide later how to make the salad.

The meal underway for the time being, I pulled the task binder out of its drawer and reviewed my duties for the day. Monday was dusting day. I would find a feather duster, clean rags, a spray bottle of mild cleanser, glass cleaner, and whatever else I needed in the utility closet in the basement. I was expected to dust every surface in every room except the office, as well as clean all TV and computer screens. Clear enough, I thought, and made my way downstairs.

Armed with my equipment, I decided it made more sense to work from top to bottom, so I headed up to the third floor, being careful to tiptoe as I crossed the landing outside the office. I couldn't hear a thing from inside.

Once on the top floor I started in on the guest rooms. Nothing was very dusty but I made sure to get every surface just in case. Mr. Cullen's room was the biggest challenge. I ran my cloth over all the frames on the walls and even did the photographs on the dresser, carefully cleaning his mirror around all the photos wedged into the sides. His hamper only had a few things it but I gathered them with me and made my way down to the laundry room, started the load, then reentered the kitchen to drain the potatoes. I tiptoed back to the second floor. Apart from Mr. Cullen's office, there was only two other rooms on this floor, one of which turned out to be a powder room and the other of which had double doors. Mrs. Whitlock hadn't shown me this room but I assumed I was to clean it as well so I gently eased the doors open and stepped inside.

I couldn't help the audible gasp that escaped my lips as I surveyed the sight before me. This was some kind of library-slash-music room straight out of my dreams. The room was dominated by a shiny black grand piano in its center. The walls were lined with bookcases that reached up to the ceiling. There was even one of those rolling staircases off to the side to access the highest books. One wall had the same enormous windows as the office and Mr. Cullen's bedroom but here the curtains were open, flooding the room with afternoon sun. I moved quietly toward the piano and took a moment to absorb some of the atmosphere. This room was giving the kitchen some serious competition for my favorite space in the house.

"Am I paying you to stare at my piano, Miss Swan?"

"Mr. Cullen!" I whipped around to the open door behind me. He was leaning against the door frame with his arms crossed. He didn't look or sound angry, but I apologized anyway. "I'm so sorry, I swear I was being as quiet as possible!"

He waved aside my apology and stepped into the room. "I didn't hear you, don't worry. I just came in because there's a book I need." He walked over to a shelf by the windows, searched the titles for a moment and then pulled down a volume. "Do you like to read?" he asked as he turned back to me and drew closer.

"Yes, I love to read."

"In that case, feel free to borrow anything that catches your fancy." By this time he was close enough in front of me that I had to lift my head to maintain eye contact with him. The bright light seemed to make his eyes even bluer.

"Thank you. Maybe I'll take you up on that this summer once classes are over."

"Please do." He ran his eyes quickly over my hair and down my body, coming back up with a slightly pursed look. Did he not like my appearance? What difference could it possibly make to him what I wore to work, when I was to be as invisible as possible? But his expression smoothed and the next question he asked me was innocuous. "How is the work going so far?"

"Fine. Mrs. Whitlock was very thorough although she didn't show me this room. Do you really want me to dust all these books?"

My question prompted a chuckle out of him as he began to move back toward the door. "Yes. I do. Is that a problem?" He stopped in the door frame again.

"No, of course not."

He merely nodded and turned to leave, then added over his shoulder, "and don't forget the piano, Miss Swan."

After he left, I silently closed the doors behind him and turned back to the room, my eyes sweeping across the hundreds, maybe thousands of volumes around me. Glancing at my watch, I saw I had at least 3 hours before I needed to be in the kitchen to start dinner. "You can do this, Bella," I whispered to myself as I grabbed the feather duster and scooted the staircase to the beginning of one wall.

Two hours later the books were finally done and I was putting the final touches on the piano, using the feather duster on the keys so as to not accidentally press any into song, and struggling not to leave any noticeable streaks on the glossy surface of the body itself. During this time the house was so silent, I'd never have guessed that another human being was maybe thirty feet away from me. It actually was starting to feel a little spooky, and I was glad to be finished with the library and back on the ground floor. The living room took no time at all, the dining room was a breeze, and before I knew it I was done.

It was with relief that I put all the dusting equipment back in the utility closet and closed the door. Dusting is not my favorite job, it never has been. Although Mr. Cullen's house had hardly been dusty to begin with, I still felt a little dirty. I didn't feel at liberty to wash my face in any of the bathrooms, so after transferring Mr. Cullen's laundry from the washer to the dryer and putting my dirty cleaning rags in the washer to do tomorrow, I retreated back to the kitchen, pulled the door closed, and used the kitchen sink to rinse my face and hands. I drank a glass of water from the tap and felt much better. It occurred to me that not knowing where to wash up meant I didn't know if I could use any of the bathrooms here either. Great.

By now it was time to make dinner. I heated a pan for the tenderloin and one for the potatoes, adding olive oil to both. The potatoes sauteed while I browned the meat, put it in the oven to finish, and made the salad. It only took thirty minutes to pull it all together and I was ready to serve at six. I opened the door to the dining room just as Mr. Cullen entered from the other end. Mrs. Whitlock wasn't kidding – he really was a stickler about the time. He sat at the head of the table where I'd set a place for him and I walked in with his plate. Placing it in front of him, I said, "I hope medium rare is okay."

"Yes, that's perfect. This looks delicious. Would you mind making me a martini to go with it?"

"Of course." I moved to the liquor cabinet and fixed his drink, remembering the three olives, and brought it back to him. "Is there anything else you need?"

"No, Miss Swan. Please make yourself a plate and eat in the kitchen. I'll call you if I need anything."

I withdrew to the kitchen and helped myself to some salad. The vinaigrette had come out pretty well, if I did say so myself. I'd worked up an appetite and was done in a few minutes. All I had left to do was fold and put away his clean laundry, clean up the kitchen, set up the coffee and I was done for the day. Downing the last bite of salad I wondered if it was okay to handle the laundry quickly now while Mr. Cullen was eating so that I wouldn't run into him upstairs while putting it away. Mrs. Whitlock had told me to wait in the kitchen, but what exactly for? Why couldn't I just run downstairs and take care of the laundry while he ate? I was halfway down the stairs when I heard him call loudly for me.

"Miss Swan!"

I practically ran back into the dining room. "Yes, Mr. Cullen, what is it?"

"Miss Swan. Didn't Mrs. Whitlock explain that you are to wait in the kitchen while I eat? I had to call you twice. Why didn't you come the first time?" His tone was level, his expression blank, but he was rocking his empty martini glass back and forth in agitation.

"She did, Mr. Cullen, but I thought I'd have time to run downstairs and finish folding your laundry before you needed anything."

"You were wrong. I want another martini."

"I'm sorry – I'll make you one right now."

When I returned to the table I noticed that he was about half way through his meal. As I placed his new drink down he looked up at me, reading my face, which no doubt showed how anxious I was about upsetting him on my first day here.

"Thank you."

"You're welcome. I'm sorry about leaving the kitchen."

"That's alright, Miss Swan. Just don't let it happen again."

"You know, you can call me Bella."

"Bella." He said it like a statement, trying it out. "It's a pretty name and it suits you, but I prefer Miss Swan. And I'd like you to call me Mr. Cullen or Sir."

"Yes, sir."

At this, one side of his mouth turned up in a half-smile. Then he returned to his plate, taking a bite of steak and mushroom gravy.

"Do I taste wine in the gravy?"

"Yes sir. I used a bit of red wine to marinate the steak and made gravy with the leftover marinade."

"Delicious. Mrs. Whitlock was a perfectly capable cook, but you, Miss Swan, have just served me the best meal I've eaten in quite some time."

"Thank you, Mr. Cullen." His praise had such an odd effect on me. A surge of happiness that I'd pleased him welled up inside me. I had to bite my lip to keep from smiling. What was wrong with me? Professors had praised my intelligence before but I hadn't reacted like this. And to my cooking? This was ridiculous and I shook my head a bit to clear it.

"May I return to the kitchen, sir?"

"Yes, you may. Don't worry about the clothes in the dryer, you can get to them tomorrow."

"Yes, sir."

"And Miss Swan," he said as I was almost at the door, "I'm already looking forward to tomorrow night's dinner. Good night."

"Good night, sir."

**A/N: Thanks again to everyone who's reading, favoriting and reviewing. A couple of reviewers asked where this is going, and while I'm not going to give anything away, I did rate this "M" for a reason and it is a Bella/Edward story - I'm just saying. However, I did choose the title for a reason as well, so I hope you bear with me for the next several chapters. - kts **


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Tuesday I vacuumed the rugs in the upstairs bedrooms, the library, the living room and the dining room. The vacuum was by far the quietest I've ever used, giving off more of a low hum than the usual roar. It was lightweight, too, so I wasn't too tired when I finally finished around 3:00. I had a whole chicken to roast for tonight's dinner but it would only take about an hour, so that gave me two extra hours to work on what I hoped would turn out to be an edible rhubarb pie. I hadn't planned on trying a pie for only my second meal but Southbay's had been running a special on fresh rhubarb and I remembered that it was my dad's favorite. He ordered it every time he saw it on a menu. Thinking of him made me feel a little sad; I hadn't seen him since last August, the longest we'd ever been apart from one another. He'd raised me himself after my mother left him us when I was two, treating me more like a little sister than a daughter. By the time I was a teenager, we'd worked out an arrangement that suited us both; I did the cooking and cleaning, and he pretty much left me alone to my own devices. I missed him.

"Okay, Dad, this pie's for you," I whispered to myself as I started chopping up the rhubarb. Luckily I'd found a cookbook in the kitchen with a recipe so it wasn't long before a reasonable-looking pie was baking in the oven. I'd also found an apron hanging in the pantry and decided to wear it, not trusting myself to make pie crust neatly on the first attempt. If I suspected that my t-shirts didn't meet with Mr. Cullen's approval, I was even more certain that my t-shirt covered in flour would horrify him.

I turned my attention to the chicken, stuffing it with whole garlic cloves, fresh rosemary and lemon slices. I rubbed it with olive oil and surrounded it with chopped potatoes and shallots. Tonight's vegetable was asparagus, also on special at Southbay's. I thought I'd saute it.

By 5:45 I had a pretty good handle on things. Mr. Cullen's place was set and I was about to carve the chicken. Everything else was ready to go. I hadn't seen Mr. Cullen yet today and I found my eagerness to do so growing. I also found myself hoping that he'd like this dinner as much as last night's. A peculiar nervousness started to overtake me and I closed my eyes, took a deep breath and smoothed my hands down my apron to quiet their shaking.

"Is everything all right, Miss Swan?"

"Ah!" I cried out and must have jumped a foot. "I didn't hear you come in!" He'd come in through the door that had the pull-out panel, which I now realized I'd forgotten to pull shut.

"Sorry to have startled you. This is probably the first time in years I've come down to dinner early. Something just smelled so good, I had to see what you were making." He moved and stood next to me, surveying the chicken, vegetables, and finally the pie. His eyes widened and I watched him swallow, the Adam's apple in his throat bobbing once. From this angle I could see a line of scruff along his jaw and I wondered whether it felt soft or raspy.

"May I carve the chicken for you?"

I handed him over the knife and fork and he took them from me carefully, his fingers touching the backs of my hands. To my utmost shame, I felt myself blushing. What was the matter with me?

Luckily I needed to wash my hands which gave me enough time at the sink to compose myself. When I'd finished, Mr. Cullen was laying several thin slices of breast meat on his plate, and adding a healthy side of asparagus and roasted vegetables. He then handed me the plate and preceded me out of the room. I followed, placed his dinner before him and asked if he'd like me to make him a martini.

"Hmm," he seemed to be debating his answer while spreading his napkin in his lap. "No, I don't think so, not tonight. Tonight I'd like a glass of wine. Did Mrs. Whitlock show you where the wine cellar is?"

"No, she didn't."

"Probably because her meals didn't inspire me to use it, but this is a feast worthy of a nice pinot noir. Go down to the cellar – it's adjacent to the laundry room – and pick any pinot noir you find, they should be on the right when you go in. There's an opener in the drawer next to the stove, bring that in too, and then you can open the bottle for me here at the table."

"Yes, sir." I found the pinot noirs right where he said they'd be and was back in less than five minutes. He watched me open the bottle and pour him a glass, which I'd found in the sideboard. I was thankful my hands had stopped shaking.

When he finally had his wine glass set above his plate, he told me to go eat in the kitchen and stay there this time. I smiled back at him and assured him I would.

I was half way through a light meal of asparagus and roasted shallots when he called for me.

"Yes, sir?" I said, entering the dining room.

"Please pour me another glass of wine." He gestured to the bottle which was easily within his reach. I refilled his glass without answering him. This was definitely odd. Why couldn't he pour his own wine?

"Are you wondering why I don't pour it myself?"

"Yes, actually, I am."

"Two reasons. First, I like to be waited on. Sue me. That's why I include serving dinner in my housekeeper's duties. Second, I like to be obeyed. If I tell you to wait in the kitchen, I expect you to do so."

"Okay." I drew the word out a bit, trying to express that I still didn't quite get it. He didn't care to elaborate, however, and instead took another bite of chicken. Swallowing, he said, "Another exquisite meal, Miss Swan."

"Thank you."

"No, thank you. I'd have another helping if it weren't for that delectable looking pie I assume is for dessert."

"Yes. Would you like me to bring you a piece now?"

"Not quite. Go back to the kitchen and I'll let you know when I'm finished."

I returned to my dinner and thought about what he'd admitted to me, that he liked to be waited on and obeyed. I wondered what had happened with Mrs. Whitlock, how his treatment of her had eventually seemed abusive enough for her to quit. I'd only been here two days and although some of his requests were odd, he'd been unfailingly polite and his appreciation of my cooking was certainly sincere and I had to admit much-welcomed. I had a hard time imagining him deliberately causing someone discomfort or even worse humiliating them, just for his own pleasure. I didn't see that in him at all. Not yet, anyway.

I was putting my plate in the dishwasher when he called for me.

"I'm dying to try the pie," he said, handing me his empty dinner plate.

"I'll be right back, sir. Should I take your wine glass as well?"

"Not yet. I might have a bit more."

A couple of minutes later I was back with a slice of Bella's-first-time-ever-rhubarb-pie on a smaller plate with a fresh fork. I placed it in front of him and apologized for not thinking to get any ice cream or whipped cream to go with it.

"Is this rhubarb?"

"Yes."

"My god, I haven't had rhubarb pie in years, maybe a decade. My mother used to make it."

"It's my father's favorite." I answered but he didn't seem to hear me as he took his first bite. He closed his eyes and moaned. I won't try to describe what that moan did to me, let's just say I almost drew blood biting my cheek. He took three more bites before finally pausing to look up at me. "Miss Swan, you're spoiling me. Spoiling me rotten. If you keep this up, I just may not let you go come September."

I started to laugh, but stopped when I caught no return expression of humor on his face. Was he serious? If this job remained part-time, we could probably work something out around my classes. Well, I thought, that's a long time from now. Let's see how the summer goes first. While I was still musing on his comment, he'd finished his pie.

"If that's all for tonight, sir, I'll finish up and go."

"Yes, Miss Swan, that is all for tonight. Thank you again. Will you be sure to wrap up the rest of the pie and put it in the fridge? I may have to sample it again tomorrow."

"Yes, sir," I answered, still biting my inner cheek to quell the irrational pleasure his praise always seemed to bring me. He was on the way out of the dining room and I was almost into the kitchen with his dirty dishes when he stopped and turned toward me.

"Miss Swan, wear the apron from now on at dinner. I like it on you."

Wednesday was one of those days where everything felt off. None of my papers were coming together, none of my classes went well, I just felt like no matter what I said or did, everything was up in the air about my grades this term. I was used to a lot of praise from my professors in the US but the ones here barely even acknowledged my existence. Had I somehow gone from smart to stupid just by changing time zones? Noble University had the one of the world's most respected anthropology programs and I was determined to carve a niche in it for myself, but the lack of feedback was wearing away at my self-confidence.

Arriving at Mr. Cullen's house that afternoon, I automatically tiptoed in the back door and then remembered that it was Wednesday and Mr. Cullen was out. I took my bag of groceries to the kitchen and put it on the counter. He was getting a pork tenderloin tonight, thanks to Mike helpfully upgrading me from the chops I had originally selected. There was no need to marinate the tenderloin as I was making a separate sauce, so I decided to put it in the fridge until about an hour before I was ready to roast it. Opening the refrigerator, I was greeted with the first positive affirmation I'd had all day … there sat my pie, or what remained of my pie. There was only about a fourth of it left. God help me, but the sight of that pie brought tears to my eyes. Someone appreciates me, was all I could think as I clung to the fridge door.

My mood having done a 180, I went upstairs to gather Mr. Cullen's laundry. Bringing it back downstairs, I started the load, remembering to include the apron. Then I entered the utility closet to gather the things I needed to clean the office. I stopped in the kitchen on my way back upstairs to double check the binder's instructions. I was to vacuum the rug and the curtains, sweep and mop the wood floor around the rug, dust every surface, clean his computer screen and keyboard, and wash the windows. No problem, I thought. I may not be able to pull together a coherent anthropology paper, but I could damn well wash a window.

I slowly pushed open the office door, being as quiet as possible until I confirmed that Mr. Cullen really wasn't here. The room was empty. I brought in the vacuum and pulled the drapes open to let in more light. The windows were more of an entire wall of glass, but I didn't let it worry me. Turning around, the painting I'd noticed during my interview caught my eye. It was even more powerful up close, and yes, there was Rothko's signature in the bottom right hand corner. I stared at it for a good five minutes before finally shrugging off the hold it had on me, and got to work.

Two hours later everything was finished except the windows, which were taking much longer than I'd anticipated. I'd found a small stepladder in the basement when I'd gone down to transfer Mr. Cullen's clothes to the dryer, so reaching the top of the windows wasn't a problem. They were just so huge. I was barely half way done before I was seriously questioning the necessity of having windows at all, when movement outside caught my eye. The view from this room looked out the front of the house, and from this height I could see a black car coming up the road that I walked every day. The car turned into the driveway and Mr. Cullen looked up at me from the driver's seat. He smiled and I gave him a small wave with my rag. Then his car left my view and I heard a low rumble, probably the garage door. At least this time he wouldn't be able to sneak up behind me, I thought, but then I worried that I should have finished in here before he arrived back home. I returned to the windows, working faster, and soon heard his footsteps on the stairs.

"Good afternoon, Miss Swan."

'Good afternoon, sir. I'm almost done in here, just finishing the windows.'

"That's no problem, take your time." He glanced around the room. "You do very good work, everything looks immaculate."

"Thank you, sir."

After a pause, I turned back to my work. Only the lowest part of the windows were left, so I knelt down on the floor, sprayed window cleaner on the first one, and began wiping. Mr. Cullen was still in the room but as my back was turned to him I hadn't realized he'd moved next to me until his shoes appeared in my peripheral vision. I stopped wiping and looked up at him, expecting him to say something further, but he merely stood there looking down at me. The awkwardness of the situation grew as I realized I was essentially kneeling at his feet. After what seemed like at least a full minute, he finally spoke.

"Stand up for a moment, Miss Swan."

I rose and Mr. Cullen reached behind me for one of the curtains. He pulled it around my body and held it up near my face.

"This shade of blue suits you perfectly. I wonder, would you be opposed to wearing a uniform while you're here?"

"A uniform, sir?"

"Yes. Something you could change into when you get here. I'd rather you looked more like a housekeeper and less like a college student." He swept his eyes over my usual jeans and university-logo t-shirt.

"Um, no, I guess I don't mind. As long as it's not uncomfortable or immodest."

This brought a quick laugh from him. "No, Miss Swan, I wasn't thinking along the lines of a French maid's outfit … but now you've given me an interesting visual." He was still smiling as he dropped the curtain and turned away. "I have some things to unpack from the car and won't need this room for at least half an hour. Does that give you enough time to finish?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good. I'll see you at dinner then."

At 6 o'clock I carried his plate into the dining room and placed it before him. His eyes took in my apron but he made no comment.

"Would you like me to make you a martini, sir?"

He looked down at his pork tenderloin, rice pilaf, and sauteed greens.

"No, I'll finish the pinot noir from last night."

I brought out the bottle and poured him a glass, then withdrew to the kitchen. After only three days of making his dinners, I could already feel myself settling into a routine. Scooping some rice into a bowl, I sat at the island waiting for him to call me. It wasn't long before he did.

"Did you have time to make another dessert this afternoon?" He asked as I refilled his wineglass.

"No, sir, I didn't. There is some pie leftover, however."

"As tempting as that sounds, I had pie for breakfast and again for lunch. I think I'll have to forgo another piece today."

"That reminds me, sir, I have a question about leftovers."

"Yes?"

"There's still most of last night's chicken left. Do you mind if I use it to make a soup or stir-fry or something?"

"Of course not, in fact, I encourage you to do so. I don't like to waste food."

"Can I ask you another question?"

"Of course."

"Do you have any favorite dishes, or a favorite type of cuisine?"

He put his knife and fork down at looked up at me with an odd expression on his face.

"Why do you ask? Did Mrs. Whitlock give you the impression that I'm difficult to cook for?"

"Oh no, not at all. The opposite, in fact. She said you ate everything she made and never complained once."

"Then, again, why do you ask?"

Why had I asked? It had been an impulsive question, but surely I had some reason for wanting to know. As always, his direct gaze seemed to draw the truth out of me without hesitation.

"I want to please you."

His gaze remained locked with mine. He was looking at me so intently, searching my face for something. I didn't know if he found what he was looking for, as I struggled to keep my expression as blank as possible.

"I can't think of any favorites off the top of my head, but if I do, I'll let you know."

"Yes, sir." I turned to go back to the kitchen when he added one last comment.

"Miss Swan, you do please me. You please me greatly."


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

The next few days were a blur. It was crunch time at school and I only had one week left to get my final papers completed. Luckily, I had turned a corner in the one giving me the most difficulty, and it was now merely a matter of compiling all the citations, just busywork, really, but time-consuming. I'd also managed to put together an outline for my oral presentation and was about as ready as I was going to get for that. All in all, I felt like I had a handle on things; if I could just wring a few extra hours out of each day, I might even feel confident.

Apart from the nearly overwhelming time crunch, the other issue weighing on my mind was my ongoing need to find a place to live for the summer. Alice and I had looked at two more apartments Saturday morning and they were just getting worse; there was simply nothing decent still available in town. The $500 Mr. Cullen has handed me before I left on Friday was useless if I couldn't find a place to rent. Alice told me after class on Monday that she'd even checked to see if I could move into her family's on-campus house they were given by the university as part of her mother's professorship, but had been told the housing was for immediate family only. "But we're not out of options, yet, Bella. Let's go check out the bulletin board in the Center and see if anyone's looking for a roommate."

There were several such ads. I didn't recognize any of the names, but Alice knew a couple of them. "Not this guy, he's a sleaze." "This girl's nice, but her place is in the south end." "Hmm, this one sounds pretty good – right location, anyway. I don't know who this guy is, but let's take down his number and you can call him later." I let Alice shuttle me through the decision-making, my mind on the paper I really wanted to finish tonight, and of course the fact that it was time to head to Southbay's and then on to work. We left with two numbers, which I stuck in my purse. Maybe I could make some calls from Mr. Cullen's kitchen if I had time. And whispered.

Mike greeted me with a big smile when I arrived at the meat counter about an hour later. "What's for dinner tonight, Bella?"

"I don't know yet. What looks good?"

"How about some seafood? We just got some fresh halibut in this morning and it looks fantastic," he said, pointing to a pile of white fish. Yeah, I thought, reading the price card, for $20 a pound it had better be fantastic, but I found myself nodding and asked for a pound. My dad practically lived on fish in the summer, and I could cook it in my sleep. I also bought a lemon, a couple of leeks, cream, some pasta, and a bag of pre-washed baby spinach because if dinners this week had a theme, it was going to be "easy." I wondered how Mr. Cullen felt about hot dogs.

Waiting for me on the kitchen island when I arrived at the house was a parcel with a note that read, "Miss Swan, please wear one of these from now on when you're here." I reached in and pulled out two identical navy blue dresses. Holding one up in front of me, I couldn't find anything immediately objectionable about it. The neckline was modest, the sleeves elbow-length, and the hem would just cover my knees. Maybe not as comfortable as jeans but then, nothing really was except maybe sweatpants. Now the question was, where the heck was I supposed to change? I chose the powder room off the living room as it was the closest to the kitchen and as far as I could tell, never used.

Locking the door behind me, I slipped out of my jeans and t-shirt. The dress went on easily, with a zipper up the front and two side ties that I guessed I was supposed to secure behind my waist. Once everything was zipped and tied, I realized the dress fit well and was perfectly comfortable, so I would wear it if that was what Mr. Cullen wished. I took a moment to look at myself in the small mirror above the vanity and had to admit the color did look good on me. Peering closer at my face, I noticed the tell-tale dark circles I always got when I was tired. My hair wasn't doing anything for me, either, I thought, as I re-tied my pony tail a little higher and tighter. Better? Not by much, I still looked exhausted. Well, I was exhausted, I thought. So sue me, as Mr. Cullen would say.

Monday was proving to be the day that look the longest to complete my tasks. There was no quick way to get through dusting the entire house, especially given the size of the library. It wasn't physically tiring, though, and I enough energy left as I entered the kitchen to start dinner. One look at the clock told me I didn't have time to call any of the roommate seekers, though. I could call tonight, I thought as I slipped the apron over my dress and got to work.

The halibut went into the oven at 5:30. I set a pot of water on the stove to boil for the penne, tossed the spinach into a salad bowl and began making the lemon/leek/cream sauce that my dad loved with salmon. At 6:05 I entered the dining room where Mr. Cullen was already sitting.

"Good evening, Mr. Cullen. Sorry I'm a few minutes late. The fish took longer than I expected."

Not having seen him since Friday, I was struck again by his amazing good looks. Why was this man single?

"Good evening, Ms. Swan. I was beginning to worry that you had some kind of kitchen disaster. Mrs. Whitlock once dropped an entire pot roast on the floor and I had to wait until 6:30 while she made me an omelet instead."

The horror, I thought. "Oh no, sir, nothing like that. I just have to dust faster, I guess."

"It's not too much for you, I hope."

"Not at all. I'm sure I'll get faster the more I do it."

"I'm sure you will, Miss Swan." He turned his attention to his dinner.

"What would you like to drink tonight, Mr. Cullen?"

"Hmm, just ice water tonight I think."

"Yes, sir."

I filled a glass with ice and water from the dispensers on the fridge door and returned to place it in front of him. He'd already eaten almost half of his fish and looked up at me as I stood beside him.

"You asked me last week if I had any favorite dishes. This," he gestured to his fish, "is now one of them. You can make this for me any time. The sauce is delicious. Leeks?"

"Yes, sir. Thank you." His praise had its usual immediate effect and my voice came out with a bit of a squeak, as if I was trying not to cry. I wasn't, was I?

He caught the off tone of my voice and asked me if everything was all right.

"Yes, it's just finals week and I have a lot of stress right now."

"Are you going to be able to work this week? I can give you time off if you need it."

"That's very kind of you, but no, I'd like to keep coming in. Working here is the only peaceful, stress-free thing in my life right now." Wow, where did that come from? Oh right, he was looking at me with that "honesty only" gaze against which I was utterly powerless.

"Well, I'd like to help in some way. Feel free to bring your things and study here if you have any free time."

"Thank you, sir, that would actually help quite a bit."

"And just for this week, you can go after you've served dinner. I can clean up the kitchen myself."

"Really?"

"Yes. Really. I am capable of starting the dishwasher, I just prefer not to." He smiled and his face was beautiful. "I'll make an exception for you this week, Miss Swan."

"Thank you so much, Mr. Cullen. I really appreciate it. So it's all right if I go now?"

"If it helps you get through the week, then by all means, feel free to go."

"Okay. Goodnight then, Mr. Cullen."

"Goodnight Miss Swan."

I finished one paper that night around nine. One down, two to go. Before I left the library I dug into my purse for the phone numbers Alice and I had collected earlier and predialed one of the numbers into my phone. Once I was through the doors, I hit send and waited through several rings until voicemail picked up. "Hi, this is Thomas. Leave your name and number and I'll get back to you. If you're calling about the roommate advertisement, sorry but I already found someone." Great. I hung up and dialed the second number, again getting voicemail but this time it was one of those generic computer-generated inboxes, so I left a message saying I was calling about the roommate ad, and if someone could call me back, I'd appreciate it.

Back in my room Anna was asleep and Megan was still out when I turned off my light at 11:30, setting my alarm for 5.

The next afternoon I finished the vacuuming at three. It was a warm day and I found myself actually glad to be in a dress. It was much cooler to work with my legs bare, more like wearing shorts. I'd put yesterday's dress in the wash with my apron and Mr. Cullen's clothes, noting wryly that the load seemed to be getting bigger on a daily basis. After returning the vacuum to the closet and switching the clothes to the dryer, I hauled my laptop and book bag off the floor by the backdoor and set them on the kitchen island. If Mr. Cullen really didn't mind me doing homework here, I wasn't going to argue since at this point every hour counted. I'd gotten quite a lot done early this morning before class and if I was lucky, I might be able to finish another paper by the end of the day. I found a convenient socket for my laptop's power cord at the base of the island, fixed myself a glass of ice water, and got to work.

Two hours later I had made enormous headway on the paper. I was going to finish tonight, I could tell. I rolled my head around in a couple of circles to ease the kinks in my neck and breathed a huge sigh of relief. Wow, I thought, it does really help to work in total peace and quiet with no distractions. Chalk one up to Mr. Cullen.

Mr. Cullen! Oh no, dinner! What time was it? In a panic, I spun around to the kitchen clock. Thank god, it was only 5:20. That was close. Dinner tonight was only sausages and potato salad, and I'd already boiled the potatoes so I just had to fry the sausages and assemble the salad. Plenty of time.

I shut down my laptop and packed away my notes and books, then jogged downstairs to fold the laundry and slip on my apron. I took Mr. Cullen's clothes up to his room, put everything in its place, and then hurried back downstairs, remembering at the very last minute to pass quietly on the second floor landing.

"Good evening, Miss Swan," said my gorgeous employer as I entered the dining room at six.

"Good evening, sir."

"Ah, sausages." He stated the obvious as I put his dinner down.

"I hope that's okay."

"Of course. Did you make the potato salad yourself?"

"Yes, sir."

"You really don't have to go to any effort this week, Miss Swan, store-bought potato salad would have been fine, although I'm sure yours will taste much, much better.'

Now you tell me, I thought.

"It wasn't any trouble, Mr. Cullen. I was even able to get some studying done this afternoon."

"Good, I'm glad to hear it."

"So, what can I get you to drink?"

"Eager to leave?" He was smirking a little and dare I say teasing me?

"No, not really. I just know you like to have your drink before you start eating."

"Well, what I drink tonight depends entirely upon you."

"How so?"

"I happened to see you arriving this afternoon and you were carrying far too much. A bag of groceries is one thing, but I should have realized you'd need your computer and books if you were going to study here. I'd like to drive you home after dinner. If you accept, I'll take a glass of ice water. If you prefer to walk, you may bring me a beer."

I returned to the kitchen and grabbed a glass from the cabinet. This was a no-brainer - a ride home would be awesome. I had nearly died on the walk here; I swear my book bag must weight 50 pounds at least. I filled the glass with ice and water and smiled as I put it down next to Mr. Cullen's plate.

He smiled back up at me. God, his eyes were pretty when he smiled. "Very good. Give me about 20 minutes or so and I'll be ready to go." He started cutting into the sausage. "You can grab a bite to eat and change back into your school clothes while you're waiting for me."

"Actually, I think I'll keep this on. It's very comfortable."

"Fine. I'm glad you like it. It flatters you immensely. Now off to the kitchen with you. I'll let you know when I'm finished."

"Yes, sir."

I ate a cup or so of the potato salad. It was okay, nothing great. Ah well, I told myself, every meal can't be a home run. I put my dishes in the dishwasher, set up the coffee, took off my apron and hung it in the pantry, and somehow managed to fit my jeans and shirt into my already overcrowded bag. I was just wiping down the counter tops when Mr. Cullen came in through the dining room door carrying his own dishes, which he proceeded to load into the dishwasher himself. He stood back up and swept his arms out in a gesture that said, "See, I can do it!" I couldn't help but laugh, and I gave him a little golf clap that said "Amazing!" back to him.

"Ready to go?"

"Yep."

"Follow me. The garage is through here."

He opened the passenger door for me and waited until I was buckled in before putting the car in reverse and backing out of the garage. As we headed down the road toward town, I tried to quit stealing glances at his hand as it rested on the gearshift. Such long fingers should be against the law. Or maybe mandatory. Yes, mandatory was much better. It also didn't escape my notice that my naked knee was mere inches from said long fingers. Maybe I should have changed back into my jeans just to keep a leash on this inner hussy I seemed to be incubating.

"Do you play the piano?" I asked impulsively.

"Not nearly as much as I used to. Why?"

"No reason." I answered too quickly and turned to look out the window. I thought I heard him chuckle as he shifted the car into a higher gear.

I gave him directions to my dorm as we entered the campus and we pulled up a couple of minutes later. As I unbuckled and reached down for my bags, Mr. Cullen asked me what time I'd be leaving for his place tomorrow.

'I usually leave around 12:30."

"Hmm. I can't pick you up then. Could you come out earlier?"

"I suppose I could. My last class ends at 11:30, but that doesn't give me much time for stopping by Southbay's."

"Tell you what, I'll pick you up here at 11:45. Leave the shopping to me tomorrow."

"Okay."

"Good. Let me get your door." He got out of the car and came around to my side, opening my door and extending his hand to help me out. With my bag over my shoulder and my laptop in the other hand, I let him help pull me up. His hand felt firm and warm as it closed around mine

"Goodnight, Mr. Cullen. Thanks for the ride home."

"Goodnight, Miss Swan," he nodded. "I'll see you tomorrow." I walked up the path to the dorm, taking one last look over my shoulder as I pushed open the front door. Mr. Cullen was waiting on the sidewalk until he was sure I'd made it inside the building. And they say chivalry is dead.

**A/N: Wow, I'm more than a little overwhelmed by how many people have read and favorited this story - I promise to do my best not to disappoint! A couple of reviewers wondered if Edward is a dom, and I can assure you that although he has some control issues, this is definitely _not_ a BDSM story. Hope you like this chapter - kts.**


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

"Yes!" I did a small fist-pump as I hit the save and print buttons on my computer. Another paper down. I had to get through my oral presentation of this paper, then I had the rest of the day and night to finish the big one. Technically it wasn't due until Friday but I was hoping to pull it together tonight and finish it a day early, which would give me a whole extra morning of apartment-searching. The other roommate-seeker had never called me back and there were no new listings in the Center, so I was resigned to living in a miserable death-trap for the summer. I would just have to spend as much time as possible at work and out with Alice.

I looked at the clock – an hour until class. Time enough for a quick shower and a bite from the cafeteria. I eased up out of my chair and stretched my arms as far over my head as I could. I couldn't wait to be done with this week and actually get a normal eight hours of sleep. What a simple, divine luxury, eight hours of sleep.

Class went well, at least I thought it did. My presentation was better than most of the others and only worse than a few. I still couldn't get a read on the professor's reaction to it, but that was par for the course. Ah well, it's over now, I thought, as I headed back to my dorm. I'd done my best and my fate was out of my hands.

Anna was packing her suitcase when I arrived. I realized I probably would never see her again and gave her a tight hug good-bye. I liked Anna and wished too late that I'd gotten to know her better, but as usual, there just never seemed to be enough time. I hastily stuffed my folded uniform into my bag, checked to make sure I had all the notes and books I needed to work on my last paper, and with one last wave to Anna, headed downstairs to wait for Mr. Cullen.

It wasn't long before I saw his car approaching and he pulled up to the curb in front of me. I started to reach for the door, but he made a gesture that I should wait for him. He put the car in park, and got out; coming around, he put my book bag and laptop into the back seat and then opened my door for me.

"That's really not necessary, Mr. Cullen."

"Indulge me. I get very few opportunities to practice my manners."

"One wouldn't know it. They're impeccable."

"Thank you." He ushered me into my seat and closed the door behind me.

Once we were on the road, he asked me how things were going.

"Great. I got another paper finished this morning and survived an oral presentation. Now I just have the big one that I hope to finish tonight, and then I'm done."

"Good. Listen, as far as today goes, I'm just dropping you off at the house now, as I have an appointment shortly. I'll be back a little later than usual, probably around four, and like I said, I'll bring home something for dinner."

"Okay."

"And don't worry about cleaning the windows in my office today. They won't be opaque with filth if you skip a week."

"Thank you, I appreciate that."

"No problem."

Shortly thereafter we pulled up to the house. Leaving the engine running, he got out and opened my door, then carried my things into the kitchen for me. I started unpacking while he helped himself to a glass of water. My uniform came out of the bag first as I'd packed it on top.

"Where did you put your other one?" He asked, gesturing to the dress.

"I hung it up in the utility closet."

"And where do you change?"

"In the powder room near the living room."

"From now on you can use one of the guest rooms to get changed and keep the spare in the closet. Pick any room you like."

"Yes, sir."

"And Miss Swan, even though I'll be gone most the afternoon, please change right away."

"Yes, sir."

He nodded and was gone.

The guest room I chose was two doors down from Mr. Cullen's room on the same side of the hallway. I'd liked this room the first time I saw it. The walls were a soft green and as it faced the front of the house, it had that same bank of imposing windows. The bed and matching furniture were a deep brown wood, the bedspread and curtains a solid green velvet darker than the walls. What I liked best about the room, however, was the painting that hung above the headboard. While the rest of the room was done in soothing greens, the painting was an explosion of vibrant oranges, another original abstract that seemed to leap off the wall with energy. Like the Rothko downstairs, this painting also pulled me in and I could have stared at it for hours.

Maybe Mr. Cullen is trying to hypnotize me with his paintings, I laughed to myself as I changed into my uniform. I left my clothes neatly folded on the bed and decided to get to work on the office before tackling my paper. Not having to do the windows meant I was done in practically no time at all. For a writer, Mr. Cullen was extraordinarily tidy. His desk was spotless. I wondered if he put things away before I came and I was tempted to peek into a drawer or two, but restrained myself. Something told me snooping was sure way to incur my boss's wrath.

My chores done until Mr. Cullen returned with groceries, I was setting up my computer and notes at the kitchen island when my stomach growled loudly. The toast I'd had hours ago had worn off, obviously, and my body was ready for lunch. Could I help myself to something in the fridge? I pulled open the double doors and did a quick assessment. There weren't any left-overs, I knew that because I hadn't made anything large for dinner since last week's chicken and I'd already used that up. Surely Mr. Cullen wouldn't miss an egg or two, but I only found three in the egg bin, and thought he might need them for his breakfast tomorrow. Some afternoons I would find dirty dishes in the sink and could tell that he occasionally made himself eggs for either breakfast or lunch. Finally I settled on an apple as there were plenty in the produce bin. I sliced a bit of cheddar off a large block and found some crackers in the pantry. Surely he wouldn't begrudge me any of this, I thought, as I sat my little plate next to my laptop and got to work.

Working on my paper for the next several hours was frustrating. While I thought I'd found a cohesive base of data on which to build my thesis, I was beginning to second-guess my assumptions. The data just didn't fit with what I was trying to say, no matter how many times I rechecked the tabulations. I finally pulled on my hair in frustration and got up to do the laundry, hoping a small break would help clear my mind. No luck. What was supposed to be a fairly easy day of putting on polishing touches was turning into a nightmare of misinterpreted statistics. What was I going to do? I was basically back at square one with this project and it was due in two days. I laid my head down on top of my arms and willed myself to find a way to fix this.

"Not going well?"

How does he always do that? I didn't hear the car, the garage door, or anything. I lifted my head and shook it, not having the wherewithal to answer him.

He put a pizza box on the counter and stepped closer to me. My face must have registered my state of total panic and dismay because he took one look at me and raised his hands to my face. Smoothing his thumbs over my cheekbones, he said, "My dear Miss Swan. You look exhausted."

I closed my eyes, partly to enjoy the feeling of his fingers on my face and partly to ensure that no tears slipped out in reaction to his kind words. What he did next surprised me even more than touching my face. His hands moved up to my hair and I felt his fingers comb through where I'd pulled it out of its pony tail. My eyes were still closed when he leaned down and said quietly. "I know you can do it. You are one of the most resourceful, persuasive, argumentative and inquisitive people I know."

I couldn't help but smile as I recognized the words he'd used in my interview. I opened my eyes to look up at him and his returning expression was full of confidence. I merely nodded to indicate that I was okay and he let go of my hair.

"Are you hungry?" He asked, turning toward the pizza box. "I thought I'd spare you having to cook dinner tonight as well."

"I'm starving. And I don't think I could boil water right now if my life depended on it. Thank you."

We ate the island, together. He asked me about my paper and I tried to explain what was going wrong.

"So basically the data you're using doesn't support your thesis.'

"Yeah, that's exactly the problem."

"And it's too late to find new data."

"There's no way. It took me all term to collect what I have."

"Then I guess you'll have to change your thesis."

"Change my thesis? How do I that? These are the ideas I've been working on for months. I can't just turn around and start arguing something else." But even as these words were coming out of my mouth, I recognized that this is exactly what I would have to do. It was basic Anthropology 101, the data must support the thesis. "Ugh," I moaned, pulling on my hair again in frustration. "You're right. I have to change my thesis."

"Will you be able to do that in two days?"

"One."

"One? I thought you had until the end of the week."

"I do, technically, but I really need to hand this in tomorrow so that I have Friday morning free."

"Why?"

"Because I still don't have a place to stay and I need an extra day to look at apartments." The words were out of my mouth before I realized it. Damn it, Bella!

"You don't have a place yet?" Maybe I was more exhausted than I thought but his words sounded slower and clearer than usual, like he was talking to a foreigner, or an idiot, or a foreign idiot.

"No. Alice and I have been looking but all the decent ones seem to be taken already. I'm sure there's still something reasonable out there, I just wanted to give myself a little extra time Friday to look."

"Hmm. I hope you're right. But right now, your priority is finishing this paper. Would it help if you worked here tonight or would you like me to drive you home?"

"I could work here?"

"You can work here as late as you'd like. You can have the kitchen or the dining room, or wherever you'd be most comfortable. I'll drive you home whenever you say, although I can't promise to stay awake much past midnight."

"I'd love to stay a bit longer, if you're sure that's all right."

"I wouldn't have offered if it wasn't." He got up from his stool and took our plates to the dishwasher. Then he put the rest of the pizza in the fridge. "Help yourself to anything in here that you want," he pointed to the open fridge before closing the door. "I'll be in my office for the next few hours and then my bedroom. Come and get me at any time if there's anything you need. I'm going to stay upstairs and won't be down to interrupt you."

"You can interrupt me if there's an emergency." I gave him a sideways smile.

His face broke into the widest smile I'd seen on him yet. "Don't worry, Miss Swan. I'll take care of any vagrant spiders on my own."

The next few hours flew by as once I had made the mental switch about my thesis, the paper began to come together. At first it was difficult writing the exact opposite of everything I'd been thinking all term but eventually, with the data backing me up, my writing grew more confident and began to flow. I'd stayed in the kitchen and was glad I'd done so, as with the door pulled closed, I could talk to myself freely as I wont to do when hashing out ideas; also the left-over pizza in the fridge called me back for a slice or two as the night wore on. By 11, I was a good third of the way done. I knew I had to ask Mr. Cullen to drive me home soon if I was going to return to my dorm tonight, but I was sorely tempted to stay. Surely it would be all right to sleep in "my" guest room tonight – I mean, I'd be the one changing the sheets tomorrow, right? And I could walk back to town in the morning before Mr. Cullen awoke, so staying here tonight wouldn't be a bother to him at all.

My decision made, I went back at my paper and got in three more hours of solid work before finally calling it at night at 2 AM. I judged myself to be about half way done, which meant that if I got up at six, walked back to town and started working again by seven, I could be done by noon, in time to come back to work. I sighed, saved my work and powered down my laptop. I crept up the stairs and collapsed on the bed of the guest room, too tired to change out of my uniform and having nothing to change into, anyway. Sleep came fast.

There was a bird, no, lots of birds. A whole flock. Crows or something and they were screaming at me. What did I ever do to you, I tried to yell back, and then realized that it was my phone's alarm going off. Ugh, what was that, a mere four hours of sleep? Better than nothing. I laid back for another minute taking in my surroundings. Green walls. Green curtains. Where was I? Oh right. I'd decided to crash at Mr. Cullen's house in his guest room. And I had to get out of here before he woke up. And I had a huge-ass paper to finish today, preferably before noon. Time to roll.

I sat up and was immediately surprised by two things. First of all, there was a blanket on me that I knew hadn't been in here before. I pushed it aside and considered the other surprise: my socks and shoes were laying on the floor just underneath my bare feet. Okay, tired brain, process this. Someone must have come in here after you'd fallen asleep, which was at 2 AM, covered you with a blanket, and taken off your socks and shoes. That was easy, I consoled myself, my brain could still function. Now, who could it have been? Mr. Cullen. Also easy. Thank you very much, my brain told itself in its best Elvis accent. Oh God, you are tired, I told myself. Yeah, duh.

I hauled myself off the bed and made my way across the hall to the nearest bathroom. I splashed my face with cold water, used the toilet, and then hurried back to my room. I changed back into my jeans and t-shirt, left my dress on the bed, slipped on my socks and shoes and tiptoed down to the kitchen. I packed up all of my things and scrambled around looking for a notepad. I finally found one and jotted off a quick note to Mr. Cullen thanking him for letting me crash here and assuring him that I'd be back at one. At the last minute, I thought to give him my cell number, and told him he could call me if he wanted to. With that, I was gone.

I finished the paper. I did it. I set forth irrefutable proof that everything I'd been arguing in class all semester was wrong and even explained why. I was done. I was done! I WAS DONE! If I never saw another anthropological field study again in my life, I didn't care. I. Was. Done.

I printed it out and pushed it into my professor's inbox at the Center. It was 11:45. The rest of the day would be a a breeze and in just a few short hours, I could finally get the rest I needed.

I was still running high on adrenaline when I got to Southbay's. I'd had enough time to dump my stuff off and take a quick shower at my dorm, which had refreshed me to no end. I felt like a hundred pound weight had been lifted my shoulders and I practically skipped my way back to the meat counter.

"Bella! Good to see you! I missed you yesterday." Mike's enthusiasm was infectious and I gave him a big smile.

"It's finals week, Mike. Mr. Cullen gave me a night off cooking."

"Good for him. Are you finished then?"

"Finished this morning. Now I feel like celebrating. What's the best thing you've got today?" My eyes swept over the case, looking for something special.

"Hmm. Let me see … have you ever cooked a live lobster before? We've got several in a tank in back."

"No," I shuddered. "I don't think I'm up to killing anything today. I want something that's already dead."

He laughed. "Don't blame you. That's why there are butchers." He looked over the meats carefully. "Ah, here we go, these lamb chops were just flown in yesterday from Washington State. The best you can get."

"Washington State? That's where I'm from."

"Really? Seattle?"

"No, a little town just north of there. But this is kismet or something. I'll take two of the chops."

"Yes, ma'am."

I added some rosemary and mint to my basket, some fingerling potatoes, and a head of broccoli. At the last minute I grabbed a carton of eggs.

My cell rang just as I was leaving the store. I didn't recognize the number but in my exuberantly good mood, I was happy to talk to anyone and answered with a cheerful hello.

"Miss Swan, this is Mr. Cullen."

"Mr. Cullen! How are you?"

"I'm fine. And judging by your tone of voice, I'm guessing you finished your paper."

"I surely did. I handed it in an hour ago. I'm just leaving Southbay's now and should get to your house in thirty minutes."

"Well, that answers my questions. I was calling to see if you needed the afternoon off, and if not, if you'd like me to come get you."

"That's very thoughtful of you, sir, but no and no. I'll be there soon."

"All right then. I have quite a bit of work to do this afternoon so I probably won't see you until dinner."

"Okay."

"Goodbye, Miss Swan."

"Goodbye, Mr. Cullen."

Thursday was sweeping and mopping day. Last week the work had gone fairly quickly but it wasn't long before my fatigue became evident. By the time I'd finished the top floor and moved down to the library, the mop had begun to feel unnaturally heavy and my movements felt clumsy and inefficient. Luckily there were large rugs in almost all of the rooms so I only had to work around the perimeters, but still, it was slow going and I wasn't finished until nearly four.

Putting the equipment away and folding the laundry, I realized that after two weeks, I had the routine down and could do this job on auto-pilot. It was an oddly reassuring feeling.

I climbed the stairs back to the kitchen and took a moment to sit at the island with a cookbook. I'd been thinking while mopping that I owed Mr. Cullen a huge thanks for helping me out this week. Not only had he cut me some slack on my duties, he'd driven me to and from work, fed me pizza, let me sleep here last night, and even helped me sort out my paper. I probably wouldn't have finished it by now if it weren't for him. I wanted to surprise him with a dessert tonight and flipped through the cake recipes. Surely a cake wouldn't be too difficult to make, I thought, if I could find one that didn't require frosting or layers or anything too complicated. Ah, here we go. A lemon pound cake sounded perfect. I scanned the ingredient list and was pretty sure I'd seen everything I needed either in the fridge or the pantry. I slipped on my apron and pulled the Cuisinart stand mixer out of the cupboard by the sink. Get ready for my first cake, world, I thought as I began unwrapping a stick of butter.

At six I brought Mr. Cullen his dinner. The lamb had turned out lovely, the potatoes were perfectly steamed and the broccoli added a nice touch of green on the plate. Mr. Cullen smiled appreciatively as I placed it in front of him.

"Lamb. What a treat. I think a glass of Shiraz would go perfectly with this. Do you think you can find a bottle in the cellar?"

"Yes, sir. I'll be right back."

The shirazes weren't far from the pinot noirs and I returned with a bottle and the opener within minutes. I got a wineglass from the liquor cabinet and returned to the table to open the bottle. The corkscrew seemed to have gone in straight, but I couldn't pull the cork out no matter how hard I tugged.

"Can I help you with that?"

"Yes, sir, I can't budge it."

He pulled the cork out with no problem and gave me a questioning look. "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine, sir, just tired."

"You left very early this morning."

"Yes, and I was up until two last night."

He handed me the bottle and I poured him his glass. "Go rest in the kitchen until I call you, Miss Swan."

"Yes, sir." I was too tired to protest and went back to the kitchen, slumping across the island in a heap and closing my eyes. I was even beginning to drift off a bit when I heard Mr. Cullen call my name.

"More wine, sir?"

"Please."

I refilled his glass, my hand shaking, and he looked up at me.

"Miss Swan, you look like you're about to keel over."

"No, Mr. Cullen, I'm fine."

"You shouldn't have gone to so much trouble on this meal."

"The lamb was no trouble at all, but you should see the cake I murdered this afternoon. The lobster wouldn't have stood a chance."

"Cake? Lobster?" He looked entirely confused.

"I tried to make you a lemon pound cake as a thank you for everything you did for me this week. But something went wrong. Horribly wrong."

"You don't have to thank me for anything."

"I wanted to, though." My voice had gotten small and quiet. He set his fork down and looked up at me with that odd expression he sometimes got, like he was debating something inwardly. He seemed to reach a decision after a moment and gestured for me to come around to his left.

"Miss Swan, kneel down here by my side."

This was the oddest thing he'd ever asked of me but my brain was half comatose by this point and the prospect of getting off my feet was hugely appealing. I sank down on the carpet next to his chair, sitting rather than kneeling, with my ankles tucked underneath me.

"Yes, just like that. Close you eyes. Rest."

He picked up his fork and resumed eating.

"The lamb is perfect, Miss Swan."

"Thank you." My voice was no louder than a whisper.

I felt his left hand come to rest lightly on top of my head. After a few strokes, he reached down and pulled out my pony tail holder, dropping it to the floor behind me. Then he ran his hand up from the nape of my neck to my crown, gently pulling his fingers through the strands and loosening them around my face. His ministrations felt so good, so relaxing, I felt myself leaning toward him and soon my cheek was resting against his thigh. I could hear him continue to eat his dinner and take sips of his wine as he played with my hair. Within minutes I was again succumbing to sleep.

The next thing I knew I was moving. No, wait, I was being moved. Where was I going? Up. Up, up, up, I could hear footsteps and I struggled to open my eyes. All I could see was the side of Mr. Cullen's face, his strong jaw mostly, and a bit of his ear. Mr. Cullen turned his eyes down to mine. He was so close. Why was he so close? Was this a dream? Would the Mr. Cullen in my dream mind if I touched the scruff on his jaw? I decided to find out and raised one of my hands up, running a finger lightly across his chin. Raspy. Good to know.

"You fell asleep in the dining room. I'm putting you to bed." Was all he offered in explanation.

I realized then that I was still at his house and he was carrying me upstairs. Embarrassment swept through me, and I began to struggle to be let down. His grip was too firm, however, and before I could try again, we were in the guest room. He laid me on the bed, pulled the covers down on one side, moved me over and then bent over my legs. I felt him take off my shoes and socks, and then he pulled the covers back over me and tucked them up around my shoulders.

"You're too exhausted to go home tonight. You can sleep here again. Don't leave in the morning. I'll drive you home when you're ready to go."

I nodded, the comfortable bed pulling me quickly back into a restful state of semi-consciousness.

"One last thing, Miss Swan."

I half-opened my eyes to see him fingering a strand of hair that had fallen across my cheek.

"No more pony tails."

**A/N: Thanks again to all you wonderful readers and reviewers out there! A couple of people have asked if I'm going to include an EPOV, and I honestly don't know. If I get to a part of the story where I think that might fit, I'll give it a shot, but no promises. As for their ages, they talk about that in a later chapter - I hope it's okay to leave them vague for now. Hope you liked this longer chapter - kts.**


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

Mr. Cullen was sitting at the kitchen island sipping a cup of coffee and reading his laptop when I came down in my jeans and t-shirt the next morning around eight.

"Sleep well, Miss Swan?"

"Like a log. I feel so much better."

"Very good. Help yourself to coffee if you'd like. Otherwise, I have tea or juice."

"Coffee would be great." I pulled another mug out of the cupboard, poured myself a cup, and sat down at the island across from Mr. Cullen.

"Can I make you something for breakfast?"

"I feel like I should be asking you that."

He looked up at me briefly. "I noticed that you restocked my eggs for me, and I'd be happy to fry you up a couple in return for your thoughtfulness."

"Thanks, but I think I'll just have some toast. I don't usually eat much for breakfast and I need to get going anyway."

"Do you know where the bread and toaster are?"

"Yep, Mrs. Whitlock showed me." I had already pulled the bread out of the basket on the counter top and plugged in the toaster. "Would you like some toast, Mr. Cullen?"

"Sure, as long as you're making some for yourself."

I served him two pieces of buttered toast on a plate and sat back down with my identical breakfast. We ate in silence and I collected our plates when we were done. The dishwasher was still full of last night's clean dishes. He must have come back down and cleaned the kitchen after putting me to bed. I wondered what he thought of the inedible cake I'd left in massacred pieces on the counter. "Would you like me to put these away?"

"No, no work for you this morning, Miss Swan. I'll take care of them later. You can just put our plates in the sink for now."

He stood up and brought his coffee cup over to put in the sink too. Standing next to him I was again struck by his height. I was 5'5" and he seemed to be at least a foot taller than me, but that would make him 6'5", and that couldn't be right. He caught me frowning up at him and asked me what I was thinking. Even a full night's sleep was no use against his 'honesty only' gaze so I told him I was trying to guess his height.

'Six foot two." He smiled. "Is that a problem?"

"No, of course not." I could feel a blush starting to rise and quickly changed the subject. "Thank you for last night, I mean, for carrying me to bed and letting me sleep here again."

"Don't worry about it. Like I said, you fell asleep on the dining room floor. I would have to be a monster to send you home in that state."

I suddenly remembered the details of last night's dinner. Me kneeling on the floor next to him, his hand in my hair, my cheek on his thigh. There was no controlling the blush this time. Luckily he had turned away from me and was gathering some things off the island.

"When would you like me to drive you home?"

"The sooner the better, I guess. I have an appointment to see an apartment at 10."

"That's not for another hour and half. Are you sure you don't want some eggs?"

"I'm sure. And the apartment is in the south end, so it will take me a while to get there."

He paused for a moment and turned back to me.

"Miss Swan, would it be terribly imposing of me to ask to come with you?"

"Come with me? Why would you want to do that?"

"For one thing, if I drive you there you won't have to walk. Some of the neighborhoods get a little rough down there. And I'd also like to see what kind of apartment you're considering taking. I don't want you living somewhere unsafe."

He noticed my hesitation. "Never mind, I shouldn't have asked. You and Alice will be fine."

"Alice isn't coming. She has her last final exam this morning."

"So you're heading off into the south end on your own?"

I nodded. "That was the idea."

"Then I think I really must insist on accompanying you, Miss Swan. If nothing else, at least let me drive you. I'll wait in the car while you check out the apartment, if that makes you more comfortable."

"All right, if you insist."

"Good. Shall we leave in about hour?"

"Sure."

I folded my hands together and looked around the room. What was I going to do for an hour in Mr. Cullen's house if I wasn't working?

He solved my dilemma for me. "Why don't you browse around in the library until then. I have a few things to do in my office."

"That's a great idea," I said excitedly as I followed him upstairs to the second floor.

I was happily ensconced in a big easy chair with a stack of novels next to me when he stuck his head in the door an hour later and said it was time to leave. Already? Darn it. I kind of wanted to stay here all morning. Scratch that, all day. All summer. The rest of my life. But I pulled myself up and followed him down to the car, grabbing my purse on the way.

"Are you sure you don't mind if I borrow some books this summer?" I asked as he settled into the driver's seat.

"Of course not. What good is a book sitting on a shelf? It needs to be opened and read to be of any use."

"In that case, I promise to put as many of them to use as I can."

"Nothing would make me happier." He turned and gave me a smile. "Now, where exactly are we going?"

I pulled the directions out of my purse and helped guide him through traffic until we pulled up in front of a four story complex that matched the address I was given over the phone. The street was quiet, and the building itself looked in good shape, so I was getting my hopes up that this place might work. Mr. Cullen got out and opened my door for me. I was getting used to his manners and knew to wait for him to extend his hand to help me out. He continued to hold my hand after I was on the sidewalk, giving it a small squeeze as he surveyed the facade of the building.

'Oh, just come in with me," I said, rolling my eyes. "I can tell you're dying to."

"Thank you." He released my hand and gestured for me to lead the way. We found the manager's office on the main floor. I introduced myself to the man behind the counter and explained that I had an appointment at 10 to look at Apartment G2. "Ah yes, G2, here we go," he said, grabbing a key out of a drawer. "Follow me." He led us toward an open staircase, one flight going up and one going down. "It's down here, Miss Swan," he started downstairs at a quick pace. "G for ground. There are 4 units down here, one in each corner. This is G2." He stopped in front a solid metal door and fiddled with the key. The fluorescent lights overhead flickered on and off and on again. Finally the door gave way and he ushered us both in, seeming to notice my companion for the first time. "I thought you said you were taking this place on your own. There's an extra monthly rate for roommates."

"Oh, no, this is my -" it was too weird to admit that my boss had accompanied me "- friend. He drove me down."

"I see. Okay, well, as you can see it's small but clean. There's a kitchenette over here, the bathroom's through there. This is a studio, of course, so at night you pull the couch out into a bed. What do you think?"

I turned slowly around. The space was about 20 feet by 20 feet, I'd have guessed. The kitchenette area was tiny but looked functional. There were two small windows high on the wall above the couch, letting in a little natural light but not much. The bathroom was clean, but it was the smallest I think I'd ever seen. I was actually amazed they'd managed to fit a toilet into it.

"What's the rent?" Mr. Cullen asked, his voice neutral.

"Well, there aren't many things on the market right now, as you've probably figured out. Given the low vacancy rate in town and the fact that Miss Swan mentioned on the phone that she needs to find a place this weekend, I think $1000 a month is fair."

"Are you serious?" Mr. Cullen's jaw was tightly clenched and I could tell he was attempting to control his temper. "That's extortion -" I placed a hand on his arm to quiet him.

"Let me think about it for a night," I said to the manager. "I'll give you a call in the morning."

"All right," he shrugged. "But I can't hold it for you without a deposit, and someone else might come along later today and snap it up."

"We'll take our chances." Mr. Cullen steered me back out the door and up the stairs. "That place was completely unacceptable, Miss Swan," he said as he unlocked his car and opened my door. I waited until he was seated next to me before pointing out that I'd seen worse with Alice. His face darkened even further.

He shifted into drive and we headed back toward the north end. He remained silent but I could tell the wheels in his mind were turning. He seemed to be on the verge of saying something several times but stopped himself. Finally he asked me if I wanted to come back to his house or get dropped off at my dorm. I replied that I needed a shower and could do a little packing, so my dorm was fine. It wasn't long before we pulled up at the curb. As usual, he opened my door and helped me get out.

"Thank you for driving me this morning, Mr. Cullen."

"Hmm?" He still seemed distracted by something and ran one hand through his hair. "Oh yes, of course, Miss Swan. Any time."

I headed to the door of the dormitory while Mr. Cullen waited by his car. I was almost there when I heard him call out to me.

"Miss Swan!" He walked briskly back up to me so that he didn't have to yell. "Would you really be happy living in a place like that?"

Looking up into his eyes, I thought about reciting all of my own justifications – that it was only for the summer, that it was just a place to crash at night, that there wasn't anything else to choose from – but as usual the only thing that came out of my mouth was the truth.

"No. Of course not."

"I didn't think so. See you at dinner."

"Goodbye, Mr. Cullen."

"Goodbye, Miss Swan."

My dorm room was getting emptier by the day. Anna's stuff was completely gone and it looked like Megan had managed to pack up at least half of her stuff. I could probably fit all my things in 2 or 3 boxes and a suitcase and technically I had until Sunday night to vacate, so I wasn't too worried about it. Still, I thought, as I towel-dried my hair and dug through my dresser for some clean clothes, it never hurts to start early. Damn it, I was out of clean jeans. What was I going to wear to work this afternoon? I'd have to wear my skirt – the one I'd worn for the interview – it didn't matter as I was changing into my uniform when I got there anyway. I slipped into the skirt and then decided, what the hell. I pulled on one of my nicer blouses, a cranberry silk thing with a bit of ruffle around the neck. Then I decided even more what the hell, and fastened a necklace around my neck. It was a diamond solitaire on a gold chain that my dad have given me when I graduated from high school. I loved it but rarely wore it. I automatically started lifting my hair off my neck to put it up but then I recalled Mr. Cullen's final words last night. No more pony tails, huh? Was that even legal? I couldn't even remember the last time I'd styled my hair but I found a bottle of mousse pushed to the back of my dresser and went to work with my blow dryer.

Not too shabby, I thought, when I was finished. My hair had a little natural wave to it that I'd tried to enhance with a big round brush and it actually had behaved today and framed my face just the way I liked it. I looked at the clock and realized it was probably time to hit Southbay's. Too bad, so sad, didn't get any packing done. I wondered if my failure to pack had anything to do with my lack of desire to move into any of the apartments I'd looked at. Not much doubt about that, girl, I laughed to myself. I put on a pair of black ballerina flats because my usual sneakers would look ridiculous with this outfit, grabbed my purse, and left for Southbay's.

On the way there I called Alice.

"How'd your test go?"

"Ugh, I don't know. I'm so tired right now I couldn't tell you if I passed or failed."

"Congrats, though, you're done now right?"

"Yep, whoo-hoo! You too right?"

"Yeah, I finished yesterday."

"We should celebrate. Want to go out tonight?"

"Hell, yes. I'm already dressed for it, in fact. I'll give you a call when I'm heading home from work, around seven. You get some sleep in the meanwhile, okay?"

"No worries. I'm putting on my sleeping mask right now."

I laughed out loud. I could totally picture Alice in a sleeping mask.

"Okay, bye. Sweet dreams."

Mike whistled appreciatively at me as I walked up to the meat counter. "Well, well, look at you. What's the special occasion?"

"Running out of clean laundry."

"Ah, one of the best reasons to dress up. Really, you look great."

"Thanks, Mike. So, what do you have for me today?"

"Hmm. Nothing new, unfortunately. How did Mr. Cullen like the lamb?"

"He loved it. I'll definitely be making that again, but not two nights in a row, I don't think."

"No, I suppose not." We pondered the case together. "It's been awhile since you made something with beef."

"That's true." I looked over the various roasts and cuts of steak. Then some ribs caught my eye. "Are short ribs hard to make?"

"No, they're easy, but they take a while. You have to cook them long and slow until the meat falls off the bone. Give them at least two hours in the oven, maybe even three."

I thought for a minute. Today was Friday so all I had to clean were the bathrooms. I should have time for ribs. "Give me a couple pounds, Mike."

Tiptoeing into the house 30 minutes later, I quickly put away my groceries and headed upstairs. My dress from last night was still on the bed where I'd left it. I added it to the clothes from Mr. Cullen's hamper and took everything downstairs to put in the wash. Now where was the apron? I'd been wearing it when I fell asleep but not this morning when I woke up. I checked the dining room but it wasn't there, nor was it hanging in the pantry. I wondered where Mr. Cullen put it. Oh well, I guess it wasn't going to get washed today. I went back downstairs and found my other uniform still folded on top of the dryer with the rest of yesterday's wash. I took everything upstairs and put away Mr. Cullen's things, then went into my room to change.

There were four bathrooms in the house, but since the only occupant of the house right now was Mr. Cullen, his was the only bathroom that really needed cleaning. I made sure the other three were dusted, mopped, and tidied, and then carried my gear into his room.

Really, this guy was impossibly neat. Apart from some stray whiskers in the sink and a sliver of soap that had fallen onto the shower floor, you wouldn't know anyone had used this room since the last time I cleaned it. I made short work of bringing it up to snuff and then turned to strip the bed.

I was pulling off his pillowcases near the head of the bed when something white on the floor under the bed caught my eye. Bending down, I retrieved my apron. It looked like it had maybe fallen to the floor and then been pushed under the bed by the coverlet. What the heck was my apron doing in here? Maybe I didn't want to know, I thought hastily, and tossed it onto the pile of dirty sheets.

I had the ribs in the oven and was peeling potatoes by 3:30. Earlier in the week I'd found a small radio in the pantry, and this afternoon I took the liberty of bringing it out and tuning it to a college radio station. I made sure the volume was low and pulled the door closed tightly. I was singing along under my breath to one of my favorite songs when I heard two quick raps on the door, and Mr. Cullen stuck his head in.

"Miss Swan, am I interrupting?"

"Oh no, of course not." I ran to the radio and turned it off. "I hope I didn't bother you – please tell me you couldn't hear that from upstairs."

"I didn't hear a thing. Use the radio any time you like, just keep it low."

"Thanks."

"I was wondering if you had a free moment. I'd like to have a talk with you."

"Sure. Now's perfect. Just let me wash my hands."

"Come up to my office when you're ready."

"I'll be there in a minute."

Walking upstairs to meet Mr. Cullen in his office reminded me of the day I'd come to interview with him. I'd been so nervous to begin with, and then so affected by his good looks and intimidated by his remote manner. I never would have guessed that three weeks later would find me here fully comfortable with my duties, and even comfortable with him, I realized. And in a dress, no less.

He was sitting in his chair when I walked in and he waved me to a seat in front of him. I sat and folded my hands, having no idea what he wanted to speak to me about. I didn't think I'd done anything to upset him, but he could be hard to read. Well, I guess I'm about to find out, I thought, as he cleared his throat.

"Miss Swan, I have a proposition for you. I'd like you to move in here."

"What?"

"I want you to move in here. With me."

"Here? With you?"

"It makes perfect sense."

"No it doesn't." Wait a second, maybe it did.

"You can have the room you've been using. I won't charge you rent. Your duties won't change."

"But -"

"Yes, Miss Swan? I'd love to hear your 'buts' that aren't argumentative but inquisitive."

I refused to be teased. "Yes, my 'buts,'" I said, leaning in for emphasis. "First of all, I can hardly accept free room and board from you when you've seen for yourself what the market's like right now. That's just taking advantage of your generosity."

"I don't understand how it's taking advantage when I offer it freely."

"You should at least dock my pay."

"I would never do that. You're worth every penny you earn."

"What about your silence rule? I can't tiptoe around here like I was walking on eggshells the whole time."

"Of course not. I just ask that you try to remain relatively quiet during the mornings and nights. No overnight guests or parties, that kind of thing."

"Do you expect me to make you breakfast and lunch?"

"No. Like I said, your duties won't change. I expect you to be here in the afternoons, performing your regular chores and serving me dinner. Beyond that, you're free to do whatever you like. And I called Southbay's today. They're willing to deliver out here on a weekly basis, so you don't have to worry about to walking into town every day for groceries."

He was wearing me down. I was running out of reasons to say no so I decided to stall.

"I still get to use your library?"

"Of course. Spend all your free time in it, whatever you wish."

"Why are you doing this? Why do you care where I live?"

He stretched back in his chair and laced his fingers behind his head.

"To be honest with you, I'm not entirely sure. I've lived alone for a very long time, by choice. All I can tell you is that even though I've only known you for a few weeks, I can't stand the thought of you leaving here every night to go some place like the one we saw today. I want you here. The two nights you slept here ..." He sat back up and shook his head. "I don't know how to explain it. I want you here from now on. That's all I can say."

I was more than a little confused. While his behavior this week had been considerate, generous and even friendly at times, he easily switched back and forth between that person and the authoritative one I'd first met. Even now, I felt like he was telling me to move in, rather than asking me.

We held each other's gazes and as usual I fell under that spell of being unable to hold back what I was thinking.

"Why did I find my apron under your bed this afternoon?"

"I took it off of you before carrying you upstairs, and brought it back up with me after I cleaned the kitchen. I was about to throw it in my hamper when I noticed how good it smelled."

"How it smelled?"

"Yes, like the delicious dinner you just cooked for me."

"So you brought it to bed with you?"

He shrugged as if it was no big deal, but I wasn't quite finished.

"You've asked some rather odd things of me. Last night, for instance." I was remembering kneeling at his side.

"I know I have. Look, Miss Swan, I have some unusual character traits, I fully acknowledge that. I've always demanded complete obedience from my housekeepers but there's something about you, your blush, that brings out that side in me tenfold. I've never laid a hand on an employee before you, but last night I just couldn't help myself. If I made you uncomfortable, I promise it won't happen again. I don't have any ulterior motives, no nefarious schemes. I just need to know that you're safe under my roof at night. Truly, I don't think I'll be able to sleep otherwise."

The sincerity in his voice was obvious. The expression on his face one of kindness, with a touch of apprehension. He really wanted me to say yes. I could almost literally feel him trying to pull the word out of me. I opened my mouth to do so and was surprised at what I said instead.

"I liked it."

"Pardon?"

"Last night, when you played with my hair. I liked it."

He held my gaze, his jaw moving slightly back and forth. I had no idea what he was thinking.

"So, Miss Swan, will you agree to move in?"

"Yes."

"Good. Very, very good." The relief that washed over his face was so immediate and intense it made me smile. "We can discuss the details at dinner. Unless you have any further questions, you're free to return to the kitchen."

I rose and smoothed down my dress. "Yes, sir. See you at six."

"At six, Miss Swan."

I served the ribs on a bed of mashed potatoes with a side Caesar salad. Putting down his plate, I asked Mr. Cullen if he'd a like a martini tonight or would prefer wine.

"A martini, please."

I fixed one quickly and set it beside his plate.

"Thank you."

"You're welcome, sir."

Mr. Cullen seemed distant tonight, I thought, as I sat at the island eating my salad. Why had I told him that I'd liked it when he'd touched my hair? I wish I could learn to keep my mouth shut around him. Now he might take that as an invitation to do it again. Suddenly his demeanor tonight made more sense, like he was trying to assure me that his behavior last night had been a one-time aberration. One time, I mused, feeling a little mixed. I mean, I knew that being asked to kneel beside him was just wrong on every level. But it had felt so good when he started in on my hair, and his leg had felt so warm and firm under my cheek … oh, lord, Bella, stop this train of thought right now. Right. Now.

"Miss Swan?"

"Yes, sir?" I hurried through the kitchen door and stood beside Mr. Cullen with my hands behind my back.

"You've outdone yourself again. These ribs are superb."

"Thank you. Would you like another martini?"

"Not tonight. I called you in to ask if I could assist you with your move. I assume you have some things you need driven over."

"A few boxes, yes, but I was going to ask Alice if we can borrow her father's car."

"I'm happy to do it for you. When would you like me to come?"

"We have to be out of the dorm by Sunday at five, so any time before that is fine. Whatever works for you."

"Would you mind if we moved you in tomorrow? I can be at your dorm around four."

"That would be fine."

"Good."

While we were talking, he had finished his dinner. Handing me his plate, he stood and moved to the door. "After you've finished cleaning up and changing clothes, come to the office and I'll give you your pay."

"Yes, sir."

I finished in the kitchen and went upstairs to change in what was now officially my room, although I had to admit I'd begun thinking of it as my room already. I looked around it again as I slipped out of my dress and put my skirt and blouse back on. It really was a lovely room, even nicer than any apartments I'd imagined myself finding. I ran a hand over the velvet bedspread, trying to get used to the idea that I'd be sleeping here tomorrow night and every night after that for the rest of the summer.

I knocked at the door of the office and let myself in. Mr. Cullen was working at his computer but stopped as soon as he saw me.

He took in my appearance for a moment and then said, "You look very nice this evening."

"Thank you. Alice and I are going out to celebrate the end of the term." No need for him to know about the mountain of dirty clothes back in my dorm.

He pulled an envelope out of a drawer, rose, and walked over to hand it to me. "Don't spend all of this tonight," he smiled.

"Like I could if I tried. I told you before it's too much. You really won't let me pay any rent? Even a modest one?"

He shook his head. "I could never profit off your staying here. I was even prepared to offer you a raise if that's what it took to get you to accept my offer."

"You mean a bribe, then. Well, I'm going to think of something I can do to pay you back," I said as I turned down to my purse to secure the envelope in a side pocket. When I looked back up, Mr. Cullen was staring at my throat. I held still as he reached out one finger and touched my diamond pendant. "Very pretty."

"Thank you. It was a gift from my father." The diamond must not have been visible under my dress.

"Very pretty indeed." His finger remained on my pendant while his eyes swept over my blouse and hair, finally landing on my eyes. He started to say something but stopped, dropped his finger, and turned back to his desk.

"Have a good time with Alice. I'll see you at four tomorrow."

"Good night, Mr. Cullen."

"Good night, Miss Swan."

**A/N: Yes, you smarties were right – she's moving in. I'll obviously have to work a lot harder to surprise you with anything.**

**I really appreciate your patience as this story builds. I am trying to pick up the pace a bit, believe it or not :), but feel free to let me know if it's dragging on too much, as that's been one of my main concerns. I finally understand it when authors complain that their characters won't stop talking – I've always thought 'well, you're the writer, make them stop!' - but now I totally get how they take on a life of their own.**

**Lastly, one reviewer asked for clarification on where this story is occurring. I struggled several times to put that in, but it never felt natural and I always ended up taking it out. I've been imagining that Bella's an exchange student somewhere like the Virgin Islands, which allows me to get away with using English and dollars, etc., but I didn't want to use a real location that I've never visited and therefore couldn't write about with confidence, yet every time I tried to make up a country it just came out stupid. In the end, I decided it didn't really matter where exactly they are, just somewhere tropical. Part of me feels that's kind of a failure as a writer, but another part of me feels that since this is the first thing I've ever written, I can maybe cut myself some slack. I've obviously given it a lot of thought, anyway – sorry for the long A/N, and I hope you liked the chapter - kts.**


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

I called Alice during my walk back to town. We agreed to meet at a favorite bar close to campus and she was already sitting at a table sipping on a drink when I arrived. There was another cocktail on the table that she pushed over to me. "I got you a vodka tonic, that okay?"

"Perfect. Thanks. Did you get some sleep?"

"I slept all afternoon. Why does it sometimes feel like they're trying to kill us instead of educate us?"

I laughed. "Only the strong shall survive, I guess."

She raised her glass. "Here's to our unbreakable inner strength."

We clinked glasses. "Guess what."

"What?"

"I got a place to live today."

"Yay! That's great!" She reached over and gave me a quick hug. "I knew it would work out! So tell me all about it. Do you like it? Is it close to work? Will you have a roommate?"

"Um ... yes, very, and sort of."

"Come on, girl, I want details here."

"Mr. Cullen asked me to move in with him. Wait, that sounded wrong. What I mean is he offered me one of his guest rooms."

"Really." Alice's eyes were bugging. "And you said yes?"

"Yep. I couldn't think of any reason not to."

"So you two get along, you aren't having any of the problems my aunt had?"

"No, he's been a perfect gentleman." Cue the commencement of the hedging.

"And he hasn't tried to make a move on you or anything like that?"

"No. Come on, Alice, I wouldn't have said yes if I thought he was going to jump me."

"What's he charging you for rent, if you don't mind my asking?"

"He won't let me pay him anything, that's the only problem." She gave me a look of pure skepticism. "I know, Alice, but what can I do? He's offered me free room and board, he won't take a dime, he won't dock my pay, he won't increase my hours. He says he just needs to know that I'm safe at night."

"That you're safe at night."

"That's what he said."

She pursed her lips together and moved her glass around in quick circles. "I don't know, Bella, you hear about this kind of thing all the time. An older man gets his clutches on a younger girl, starts taking control of her life, pretty soon she's nothing but a zombie."

I laughed. "I don't think Mr. Cullen intends to turn me into a zombie. I really think he just likes me, and no, not in that way," I added hastily to response to her raised eyebrow. I finished my drink and could only blame the alcohol for what I said next.

"Okay, maybe he likes my hair that way."

"Your hair?"

"He told me to wear it down while I'm on the clock."

"What did you say?"

"I didn't answer. I was falling asleep."

Alice's jaw was almost on the table by this point.

"It was no big deal. I was up almost all of Wednesday night finishing my last paper and I actually fell asleep after dinner Thursday. Mr. Cullen let me spend the night in a guest room, the one that I'll be moving into tomorrow."

"So let me get this straight. He tells you how to wear your hair and lets you sleep at his house, then he asks you to move in with him but won't let you pay rent." She was shaking her head. I could tell she was getting suspicious and if I let happen, I'd have to deal with it all summer.

I got the waiter's attention. "I'd better start at the beginning. Next round's on me."

A couple of hours and drinks later, I'd told Alice almost everything about the interactions I'd had with Mr. Cullen over the last two weeks. I left out that he'd asked me kneel next to him last night and that I'd found my apron under his bed this afternoon. I wasn't entirely sure why I was holding those things back as I'd always been completely open with Alice, but I knew they wouldn't sit well with her, and why should they? Mr. Cullen might not think his actions required explaining, but I knew Alice would want one and I just didn't know what to say about that side of Mr. Cullen yet. I hadn't had the time or energy to figure it out for myself, and based on what he'd said when he asked me to move in, I doubted I'd see that side of him again anyway.

When I was done, she had a much better opinion of Mr. Cullen, and even said it quite gallant of him to drive me to the south end this morning. We were gathering up our things to leave when she asked me one last question.

"Bella, do you like Mr. Cullen? I mean, as a person? Would you be friends with him if you met in other circumstances?"

"Yeah. I do like him. He's very reserved, but I got to know him better this week."

"Okay, then, that's good enough for me."

I sighed. "Alice, really. He's a nice person. Listen, he's picking me up at four tomorrow to move my stuff. Come over around three to help me pack and you can meet him for yourself."

"I will do just that." She said emphatically.

I slept in the next morning until ten, then started my laundry. It was amazing how quickly it went with the dorm almost empty and all the machines free. In fact, I was the only one down in the laundry room that morning. All the other students were probably hauling duffel bags full of dirty clothes home to their grateful mothers.

'Which box do you want this in?" Alice was cleaning out my desk for me as I packed my suitcase. She held up a coffee mug I'd totally forgotten I had.

"Hmm. That one, I guess." I pointed to the box that held my hair dryer and toiletries. It was quarter to four and we were almost done.

"So, do you want to go to a movie or something tonight?"

"I don't know. I kind of want to get settled in a bit first, but I'll call you later and let you know for sure."

"Okay."

"Otherwise, I'm free all day tomorrow. I don't have to start work again until Monday afternoon."

"What exactly do you do for Mr. Cullen?"

"Well, Monday I get to dust the entire house."

"Fun."

"Actually, it's not that bad. Mindless work is kind of refreshing to me right now. And besides, you would die if you saw his library – it's huge."

"Huge is good until you have to dust it."

"It's not that bad, I keep telling you. Besides, dusting the books is a great way to see everything he's got. He told me I could borrow whatever I wanted to read this summer, and my list is already like twenty books long. Oh, and there's a piano, and you should see the windows."

"Okay, I get it. It's awesome. Maybe I'll have to come visit you sometime and see for myself."

"Yeah, you should. Mr. Cullen said no overnight guests but during the day should be fine."

"No overnight guests? No boyfriends is what he meant."

"He's never asked me so he wouldn't know one way or the other. But obviously that's not a problem. No slumber parties is all he has to worry about."

"How come you never went out with anyone this year? Lots of guys were interested in you."

"I did go out a couple times last fall, but none of them were really my type, I guess."

"And what is your type?"

My phone rang and this time I recognized Mr. Cullen's number. I gave Alice a sly smile and said, "You're about to find out."

I opened my phone. "Hi, Mr. Cullen."

"Hello, Miss Swan. I'm parking in front of your building. Do you want me to come up and help carry things down or shall I wait down here?"

I assessed my pile of worldly possessions: three boxes, a suitcase, and a laptop. "We could use a hand. Maybe we can make it in one trip. I'm in room 302, right at the top of the stairs on the third floor."

"See you in a minute."

"Bye."

I had propped my door open so I watched him come up the stairs. He was wearing jeans and a patterned button-down shirt. He looked good. Damn good, as usual.

I waved him into my room and introduced him to Alice. She seemed a little more tongue-tied than usual, answering his polite questions in monosyllables. Mr. Cullen insisted on taking two boxes, the two heaviest ones that had my books and notebooks in them. I took the third box and Alice grabbed my suitcase and computer.

"Bye, room." I said as I closed the door behind me for the last time.

"Will you miss it here?" Mr. Cullen asked me.

"Not at all. Can you believe the university thinks its humane to squeeze three people into a room that size? Animal shelters probably have stricter guidelines. I just always say 'bye' when I'm leaving a place for good, I don't know why."

We piled my things into Mr. Cullen's trunk. I gave Alice a quick hug and thanked her for helping me. "I'll call you tonight, but like I said, don't count on me until tomorrow."

"I won't. Either way's fine."

"Good bye, Miss Whitlock, it was a pleasure meeting you. Say hello to your aunt for me and tell her I miss her cornbread muffins." Mr. Cullen stretched his hand out to Alice, and they shook quickly. Alice doesn't blush like I do, but I swear she turned a darker shade of white.

She watched as Mr. Cullen opened my door and helped me in. I gave her one last goodbye wave out the car window, but she was looking down, pulling her phone out of her pocket.

Mr. Cullen got in next to me. "Ready?"

"Yep. Let's go."

He had just gotten onto the main road out of town when my phone buzzed. I pulled it out of my pocket and was surprised that Alice had texted me already. "I get it now." was all she wrote. I chuckled and put the phone back in my pocket.

"Something funny, Miss Swan?"

"Alice. Alice is funny." Before he could ask for any specifics, I changed the subject. "So do you really miss Mrs. Whitlock's cornbread muffins? Is that something I should make for you?"

"No, I don't miss them. I could tell she thought I liked them more than I did. Don't worry, Miss Swan. Her cooking didn't hold a candle to yours."

"It's not that. I just want to make things you like. And are you ever going to start calling me Bella?"

"I don't know. Maybe. We'll just have to see."

We settled into a comfortable silence for the rest of the drive. When we got to the house, Mr. Cullen insisted on carrying the heavier boxes upstairs while I took the suitcase and laptop. My room looked different and it took me a minute to figure what had changed. First, there was a desk and chair in the corner that hadn't been here before. Next to them was an empty bookcase, and on the dresser was a large vase of fresh tulips. I was still taking it all in when Mr. Cullen came in with my last box. He put it down by the others.

"I added a few things this morning. Nothing has to stay."

"It's perfect. I love it."

"Good."

"I may never leave this room." I moved closer to the vase of tulips and held one up to my nose. It had no scent but the color was exquisite and it felt like cool satin under my fingers.

"I don't want you to feel that I expect you stay in here. The rest of the house is yours to enjoy. I just thought you'd like your own space."

He sounded a bit agitated. I turned to look at him as he continued. "I mean, I could run a cable up here and have a TV put in, if you'd like, but you're welcome to use the one downstairs. The bathroom across the hall is yours to use, although you'll have to share when I have company. Also, feel free to cook your own meals."

I realized that what I'd taken for agitation was actually nervousness. Mr. Cullen was nervous about me moving in. "Mr. Cullen, this room is nicer than anything I'd hoped to find for the summer, but I promise to make myself comfortable in the rest of the house, too, especially the library. You'll probably regret asking me to move in once you see what a mess I can make in the kitchen." I assured him. "Okay?"

He visibly relaxed. "Okay. I do want you to be happy here, not just safe."

"I will be, I can tell already."

"Good. I brought home some take-out tonight unless you have other plans?" I shook my head. "Meet me in the dining room then at six. That should give you time to unpack."

Twenty minutes later, I'd set up my computer on the desk, shoved my books into the bookcase, sorted out my clothes into the dresser and stowed my toiletries in the bathroom across the hall. When I was finished, it was only 5:15. 45 minutes to kill … what should I do? I laid down on my bed but I wasn't tired. I turned on my computer and connected to Mr. Cullen's wireless network. The man didn't have a password? For crying out loud, I thought in outrage as I quickly shuffled through my favorite websites. Nothing new. I decided to hit the library and that's where Mr. Cullen found me at six, curled up in a chair, engrossed in a novel.

"Miss Swan, dinner is ready."

"Oh, sorry, I lost track of the time. What are we having?"

"Chinese."

"Yum."

I followed him downstairs. Instead of entering the dining room through the kitchen, he led me into the living room and through the door that he always used. He'd set two places at the table, his usual one at the head and another just to his left. He pulled my chair out for me, sat down next to me and gestured at the various take-out containers on the table.

"This one's kung pao chicken, that's szechuan beef, there's egg rolls, rice, and a side of vegetables. I didn't know how spicy you like your food, so everything's two stars."

"I love spicy. The hotter the better. The only thing is I don't eat meat."

"You don't eat meat? I had no idea. What have you been having for dinner here every night?"

"An extra serving of whatever side dish and vegetable I made that night."

"I wish I'd known. I wanted you to enjoy your first regular dinner here."

"This is perfect," I said, dishing some of the vegetables onto my plate. "I love mushrooms."

He helped himself to the other dishes, clearly leaving the vegetables for me, and we ate together in silence for a few minutes. It didn't surprise me at all that he could handle chopsticks like a pro.

"Tell me, Miss Swan. How are you able to cook a flawless steak when you don't eat meat yourself?"

"I grew up cooking for my dad. He's a meat and potatoes kind of guy."

"You've mentioned him a couple of times. But not your mother." He spoke quietly, as if knowing this might be a sensitive issue.

"She left us when I was two."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be. We're still in touch. She just wasn't cut out to be a wife and mother. We have more of a friendship than a mother-daughter kind of thing."

"I see."

"What about you, Mr. Cullen? Any family?"

"I'm the oldest of three brothers."

"Wow, that's a lot. I can't even imagine what that would be like."

"It was noisy. Our house was total chaos growing up. I guess that's why I like my peace and quiet so much as an adult."

"Yeah, that would explain it. That would also explain all the photos in your bedroom."

"You noticed those?"

"Well, I have to dust them, don't I?"

"I suppose you do."

"Are you close with your brothers?"

"Relatively. No pun intended. We're all quite some distance from each other now, but they're coming to visit in July."

"Oh good. I'm looking forward to meeting them."

"Hold that thought. They're bringing their wives and children. Things get very turned upside-down around here." He put down his chopsticks and started to get up. "I forgot to offer you a drink. What you would like?"

"This is weird. Are you going to be waiting on me on the weekends?"

"No. Yes. I don't know. We'll take turns, maybe, on meals we have together?"

"Okay. I'll have whatever you're having."

He moved over to the liquor cabinet and returned shortly with two martinis. We finished the rest of our dinner and I started to gather up the dishes.

"Uh-uh." He took the plates out of my hands. "Not tonight. You can carry in the left-overs, though."

We put things away in the kitchen and after the dishwasher was started, Mr. Cullen asked me if I was going out for the evening.

"I don't think so. Alice invited me to a movie, but I'd rather go tomorrow."

"Well, when you do decide to go, I've got one more thing to show you."

"What's that?"

"Follow me." He started toward the garage. There he gestured to a bicycle I hadn't noticed when we'd driven in. "I thought this would come in handy."

"You got me a bike?"

"I don't want you to feel stuck out here. This will get you into town in no time."

I went to examine it more closely. It looked brand new. And expensive.

"Mr. Cullen, I can't accept this!"

"Of course you can."

"But it's too much!"

"Not if it helps you get around, it isn't."

"But I don't mind walking, I'm used to it."

"I know you are. But you know how I am about your safety. I don't like to think of you going everywhere on foot. It was either this or a scooter, and I knew you wouldn't accept that. So. Any more inquisitive buts that need addressing?"

I turned back to face him, ready to keep arguing my case but he had such an amused look on his face that I closed my mouth and just put my hands on my hips in frustration. He was enjoying this far too much.

"You'll still need a lock and a helmet if you want one. If it makes you feel better, I'll let you get those things yourself."

I stood there for a second and then impulsively reached up to hug him. "Thank you," I whispered. "You're welcome," he whispered back, putting his arms around me. He held me longer than the moment required, the arm he had around my waist pulling me tightly against him. He felt so strong, so warm, and he smelled so good up close, not like cologne or soap, just like 'man.' His other arm was across the top of my back, and I felt him gently finger the ends of my hair. I could have stayed in that hug forever, but eventually he gave me a quick final squeeze and let me go.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

I pedaled my new bike into town around eleven the next morning. Alice and I were meeting at noon for lunch and then a movie, and I wanted a few extra minutes to stop at a hardware store and get a lock and chain. What would have been a thirty minute walk was now a five minute ride. I picked out the most expensive lock I could find; no way was I allowing my new baby to get stolen. I loved it already.

"Nice wheels, Bella!" Alice exclaimed as I pulled up to meet her outside the pizzeria.

"I know, right? Mr. Cullen gave it to me last night."

"Jesus. Where can I get a sugar daddy?"

Alice could always make me laugh out loud. We'd met in a class last fall when I overheard her mutter something sarcastic about the syllabus that had just been handed around. I muttered something back and before we knew it, we were both giggling hysterically. The professor glared at us for the rest of the day but it was too late. We'd become best friends almost immediately.

I tried to sound professorial myself as I answered, "Miss Whitlock, a sugar daddy, as you know, is a degenerate fellow who gives trinkets, geegaws, and other useless things to a woman of low substance in exchange for sexual favors. What we have here, on the other hand, is a fine, upstanding gentleman showing consideration for the fact that his employee, a fine, upstanding gentlewoman in her own right, might find the occasional use of bipedal transportation to be to her advantage."

"Ooh, well-said. Still. I'd let someone feel me up for a bike like that."

I laughed again, locked up my bike and we went inside to eat. She asked me about my first night at Mr. Cullen's and I told her about the new furniture in my room. We went back and forth for a while about various things until we were almost done with our pizza.

"I really do wish I could come up with some way to pay Mr. Cullen back for everything he's doing for me this summer."

"What do you mean? You said he wouldn't take any money from you."

"He won't. But I was laying in bed last night trying to fall asleep and all I could think of was, here I am in this gorgeous house with my own room, my own bathroom, the use of the library. He offered to have a TV installed in my room. He gave me a brand new bike. And on top of everything else, he pays me way too much. I just wish I could even things out a little bit, but apart from cleaning extra thoroughly, I can't think of anything else to show my appreciation."

"Well, you've known him for what, a couple of weeks now?"

I nodded, sipping on my soda.

"Do you know any of his likes and dislikes?"

"He likes silence. I could take up mime."

She laughed. "I'd love to see that and I bet he would too. But what else?"

"Um, he likes art."

"Can you draw?"

"Yes. Like a child. He could put it on the fridge."

"Okay, what else then, smart ass?"

"Umm," I took a deep breath and tilted my head up to the ceiling, trying to remember any of the conversations I'd had with Mr. Cullen when he'd said anything about what he likes, apart from being waited on and obeyed, of course.

"He's complimented my cooking several times, and in a genuine way, not just being polite."

"There you go, you can up your cooking."

"I'm going to have to. I've already made him most of the fancier dishes I know. From here on out, all I've got is stuff like chili and burgers, fried chicken, tacos, the things my dad likes."

"You could go online and find recipes, or check out the library for cookbooks."

"Yeah, I guess I could. In fact, I will. Good idea, Alice."

"You know what they say, the way to a man's heart is through his stomach."

"I'm not aiming for his heart, I'm aiming for his stomach and that's it."

Alice laughed. "If you feed him well enough, it's the same thing."

The movie got out around 3:30. Alice and I spent another hour window shopping on Front Street, and then we parted ways for the day after she made me promise to have her out some morning this week to see the house. I got on my bike and pedaled to Southbay's. Even though Mr. Cullen and I hadn't discussed our dinner plans this morning when we had our coffee, I thought I would get myself something to fix just in case he wasn't going to be home or didn't provide another night of take-out.

I took my time walking through all the aisles, imagining that this was my pantry and these were my ingredients, trying to scout out things I'd never used before, getting ideas for dishes I'd never tried, wishing someone could helpfully tell me what to do with chipotles in adobo sauce or pepperonici. Finally, I headed to the produce section, where I tossed a head of lettuce and some other vegetables in my basket, figuring a salad would do for tonight, paid for everything myself, and biked back home.

Mr. Cullen's car was in the garage so I entered the kitchen quietly. I left my bag of groceries on the island and tiptoed up to my room. The house was silent but I had no idea if he was working or not. It was only a little after five, so I washed up a bit, then decided to send my dad a quick email, updating him on my summer plans. I kept the email fairly brief, just assuring him that I'd finished the term, gotten a great job and found a nice place to live, had seen a movie with Alice that afternoon, and was doing well.

At quarter to six I went downstairs to make my salad. There was still no sight or sound of Mr. Cullen. I took my finished salad into the dining room and was just about to start without him when he came through the door.

"Ah, Miss Swan, good, you didn't wait for me."

"I didn't know if I should or not."

"No, you never need to. You're having a salad then?"

"Yep."

"Just give me a minute to mike the left-over Chinese and I'll join you."

I waited until he returned with a hot plate he was having trouble holding on to.

"I always leave it in too long," he explained, sitting down in his usual seat.

"I'll make the drinks tonight if you want one."

"Thanks, but I'll pass. Help yourself, though."

I declined as well, and we set into our dinners.

"How did the bike work out today?"

"Oh, it's great. I love it. I really love it."

"Good."

"It only takes me 5 minutes to get to town now. I was thinking that if I got a basket for it, I could still do the shopping every day. That way I can get you the freshest things."

"I guess that would work. But what if it's raining and we're out of food?"

"Then we starve to death," I answered in my best horror-movie-narrator voice.

"Or one of us eats the other."

"Gross."

"Oh, I don't know. I bet you taste pretty good."

I choked on a piece of lettuce and could feel a furious blush rising to my face.

"Did I say something wrong?"

"Mr. Cullen, you like to tease me."

"I can't help myself if you set me up like that."

"You should show more respect for my delicate nature."

"You're a confessed cake murderer."

"That was an accident. It was cakeslaughter."

"Still, a violent crime."

"I was under duress. Exhaustion, remember?"

"Yes," he laughed. "I guess you were. All right, I'll let you off the hook for that one." He was smiling at me the way that made his eyes crinkle in the corners, the way that lit up his face.

We finished our dinners and carried our plates into the kitchen. He loaded the dishwasher and I set up the coffee.

"Do you want to watch some TV with me? I think I'm done working for the day."

"Sure, that sounds good."

We went into the living room and agreed on a PBS documentary.

"It looks like we have similar tastes in TV programs, Mr. Cullen," I said, sitting down a respectful distance from him on the couch.

"Just tell me you don't watch any of those awful reality shows."

"God, no."

"Good, then we'll get along fine."

The program eventually ended, and Mr. Cullen said he was done for the night. I agreed and followed him upstairs. We said goodnight to each other and I entered my room. I wasn't quite done for the night, though, and booted up my laptop to search for recipes.

A couple of hours later I'd bookmarked enough pages to get me through the rest of the week, tending to like the online chefs who kept things simple, but also adding a few who used more advanced techniques and exotic ingredients. Satisfied, I tiptoed across the hall to use the bathroom, noting that the light was out in Mr. Cullen's room. Thinking of him asleep so close to me was going to take some getting used to. I brushed my teeth and did my other night time bathroom stuff as quietly as possible.

Monday morning Mr. Cullen was already in the kitchen when I came down around 8:30 for some coffee. We exchanged good mornings and I started making some toast and helped myself to a banana.

"I'm going to bike to Southbay's this morning before it gets too hot. Do you need anything while I'm there?"

"That's kind of you to ask, Miss Swan, but no, I don't think so."

"I'm going to do a few other errands while I'm in town, so if there's anywhere else I can go for you, I'd be happy to do it, sir."

"Now Miss Swan, I'm not going to allow you to sneak in extra work as my personal courier."

"I'm hardly being sneaky by asking outright, am I, Mr. Cullen? Polite is the word you're looking for, I think."

I was rewarded with one of his crinkly smiles. "I'd never say otherwise. You'd very politely like me to increase your hours, of that I have no doubt." He looked at me for a moment, as if weighing an idea. "Actually, Miss Swan, there is something you can do for me in town. A book I've ordered at Harland's has come in. Would you mind stopping by and picking it up? That would save me a trip in to town today."

"Of course not, I'd be happy to."

"Thank you. I'll call and let them know they can give it to you." He picked up his coffee cup and plate and carried them to the sink. "Today is what, dusting?"

"Yes, sir."

"Very good." He turned to go. "I've got quite a bit of work today, so I may not see you until dinner."

"All right. See you then."

He nodded and left. I spent the next hour finalizing my grocery list and then headed to town. I did my errands first, stopping by the bank to deposit my pay, and then the drug store where I got my monthly birth control, more shampoo, and on impulse, some new mascara. When I arrived at Harland's, I told the woman behind the counter that I was picking up a book for Mr. Cullen.

"Ah, yes." She said with a big smile. "He called not long ago and said you'd be stopping by." She handed me a book that was already bagged, and then held out a small envelope. "He said to give you this." I frowned in confusion, opening the envelope to find a $25 gift card. "He said you were to get yourself something as well."

"He didn't!"

"Is that a problem?"

"Can you put this back on his account?" I tried giving it back to her but she shook her head and held her hands out, palms forward. "I'm sorry, it's non-refundable."

I sighed in exasperation. I couldn't even run a simple errand for Mr. Cullen without him doing something generous in return.

"Fine. Thank you." I gave the saleswoman a quick smile of apology for my ungrateful response and turned to look at the store. I tried to think of a book to get Mr. Cullen, but considering the size of his library I'd probably end up duplicating something he already had. Maybe a self-help book, I thought as I started to wander through the shelves. "How to Stop Being so Generous and Let Others Do Things for You," would get the message across. Eventually I stumbled into the cookbook section, and realized that was perfect. If I spent on the card on a cookbook for myself, he'd just have to accept it, even if he'd be the ultimate beneficiary. I browsed for a while, finally settling on one that looked just right. I paid for it with the gift card and a few dollars from my purse, and then headed to Southbay's.

I'd decided to make another fish dinner for tonight because they were quick and I honestly didn't know if I was ever going to get faster at dusting. I was going to try a balsamic vinegar reduction and was happy to see some Alaskan salmon in the fish section. I asked Mike to wrap me a one-pound filet, then went and hunted down the rest of what I needed. I was getting hungry by the time I'd finished, so I decided to eat in town, grabbing a veggie pita and iced tea at one of my favorite sandwich shops, which was oddly deserted for the lunch hour until I realized that most of the university students had left by now. I kind of liked having the place to myself, I thought, as I leafed through my new cookbook. I could actually hear myself think for once.

When I got back to the house it was early afternoon and already quite warm. I put the groceries away, left the books on the kitchen island and tip-toed upstairs where I washed my face and changed into my dress, which felt deliciously cool compared to my jeans. I decided that instead of socks and sneakers, my flats would be more comfortable as well, so I slipped them on and went down to start work.

I wasn't getting any faster at dusting. I just couldn't figure out any shortcuts and although I could probably get away with not being thorough, I was determined to do a good job for Mr. Cullen. I finished right at four again, washed up, and headed into the kitchen to get organized on dinner. The fish would probably take 30 minutes, same with the sauce, but I wasn't sure if the mashed sweet potatoes would take longer to boil than regular potatoes, and wasn't completely decided on how to make the swiss chard. I poured myself a glass of water and sat down at the island, pulling out a few of the household cookbooks and even checking my new one but finding nothing helpful. I tiptoed back upstairs and brought down my laptop to see what I could find online. I had a recipe for braised chard pulled up and was comparing it to something I'd found in the stack of cookbooks when I heard Mr. Cullen come in.

"Miss Swan, here you are." He opened the fridge and pulled out a sparkling water. "I didn't hear you return from town and I must say you work very quietly. I wasn't sure you'd made it back."

"I did, thank you. And thank you for the gift card at the bookstore, but doing things like that is a sure way to get me to stop offering to do your errands."

"Is it now." He chuckled, knowing full well it would be.

"Here's your book, by the way." I pulled it out from under a cookbook and set it down in front of him.

"And what did you get for yourself, if you don't mind my asking?"

"This." I held up the cookbook I'd chosen, and he noticed all the cookbooks then, including the recipe on my laptop. "I've decided to improve my cooking." I couldn't help but smile, knowing I'd managed to outsmart him.

"That isn't necessary. Your cooking is fine, more than fine." His tone was stern but he was trying hard not to smile back at me.

I shrugged. "It's my new summer hobby, what can I say. Now," I got up and started closing books and clearing off the island, "I need to get started, so unless you don't want to be served promptly at six, you should let me get to work."

"Yes, Miss Swan. See you at six." I snuck one last look at him before he left. He'd given up trying not to smile and looked as happy as I'd ever seen him.

**A/N: A couple of shorter chapters this weekend, but I promise things will begin to heat up next week ;). I had to laugh at the reviewer who said this story makes her hungry – I've had the same problem while writing it, and it just gets worse as Bella's meals improve. Sorry!**

**Thank you_ so much_ to everyone who's reading, favoriting, alerting and reviewing - I really appreciate your interest in my story - kts**


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

Monday night's dinner had been a big success. Mr. Cullen loved the salmon and declared the mashed sweet potatoes one of his favorites. I made a mental note to start writing them down.

After a quick breakfast Tuesday morning, I biked into town. Tonight's dinner was going to be kind of french, chicken cordon bleu and scalloped potatoes. I asked Mike to wrap up some chicken breasts and also another pork tenderloin as I was going to going to ask Alice if she wanted to come out tomorrow, and this would save me a trip back into town. I picked up the rest of the things I needed and started pedaling back. It wasn't until I was almost home that it occurred to me to make a dessert. I wish I'd thought of that before I went shopping, but there was time to bike back to town if I had to.

I hurried into the kitchen when I got back and pulled out a couple of cookbooks. Madeleines looked easy but required a specific pan. A tart would be nice, but I hadn't bought any fruit this morning and Mr. Cullen was down to only a couple of apples. Crème brulee sounded tricky and had to be browned at the last minute. Finally I turned the page to a chocolate mousse recipe. I scanned the ingredients and hoped I could find some cocoa powder.

I was digging around in the pantry when I heard Mr. Cullen come into the kitchen.

"Mr. Cullen?" I stuck my head out the pantry door. "Do you know if you have any cocoa?"

"I think so. I should." He came and stood next to me. "Ah, it's up here." He reached up to the top shelf and pulled down a small tin.

"Being six two has its advantages," I smiled up at him.

"Yes. For a while I considered a career in cocoa retrieval, but the competition was too fierce."

"Not enough demand?"

"Not the right kind. But that seems to have changed. I may have to rethink my career options."

We had moved back out to the kitchen by this time. He quickly took in the fact that I was in jeans and a pony tail, but he didn't say anything. I made a another mental note to change into my uniform as soon as I got up in the morning. Wait, what? Why would I do that? Well, what difference would it make? The dresses were comfortable and I didn't mind wearing my hair down. He obviously preferred me to look a certain way, and I was looking for ways to please him.

Interrupting my internal debate, Mr. Cullen opened the fridge and asked me if I'd like a sandwich for lunch.

"Sure, that sounds great. No meat, though, remember."

"Right, no meat. I'll see what I can do."

He started pulling various things out of the fridge and placing them on the island, where he saw the cookbooks out.

"Miss Swan, you aren't officially at work until this afternoon. You're not trying to sneak in extra hours, are you?"

"Of course not, but I had an idea for a special treat for tonight and I needed to see if you had the ingredients."

"Cocoa being one of them?"

"Yep."

"Are you taking your hostilities out on another cake?"

"Very funny. Just for that, I'm not telling you. You'll have to wait until dinner to find out."

He snorted a bit of a laugh and started assembling a sandwich. "Miss Swan, since you started working for me, I feel like that's all I do. Wait for dinner."

It took me a second to catch his meaning and I just looked down, fighting back the perpetual blush.

"Is Swiss cheese okay?"

"Sure."

After a few more toppings, he sliced my sandwich in half, put it on a plate and handed it to me, sitting down across the island with his own.

"This is really good, Mr. Cullen."

"Thanks."

"I mean it." And I did. I hadn't been paying attention to what he'd put in it, but it was the perfect combination of crunchy, spicy, and something tangy.

"Don't look so surprised. I do manage to feed myself during the day and on weekends even though I don't particularly enjoy doing so."

Third mental note to self: make a big meal on Fridays so that the fridge is full of left-overs for the weekend.

We finished our sandwiches and Mr. Cullen took our plates to the sink. "You're vacuuming today, right?"

"Yes, sir."

"I'm not working on anything important this afternoon so feel free to come in and do my office. That way you won't have to bring the vacuum upstairs again tomorrow."

"Oh, okay. You're sure?"

"Yes, Miss Swan. Or I wouldn't have offered."

He gave me one last smile and left.

I vacuumed the whole house, including Mr. Cullen's office. I could tell he was watching me work, so I tried to finish as quickly and efficiently as possible. He had to get up so I could reach under his desk, and he stood by the windows, his hands in his pockets, watching me with an odd smile on his face.

The chicken had come together nicely. I'd flattened the breasts with a mallet, stuffed them with ham and cheese, browned them in a pan and finished them in the oven. The scalloped potatoes looked good too. The vegetables were almost ready to go, and a serving of chocolate mousse was chilling in the fridge.

Mr. Cullen was putting his napkin in his lap as I entered the dining room.

"Good evening, Miss Swan."

"Good evening, sir. What can I get you to drink?"

"Well, let's see. This looks delicious. Something french, obviously. How about a voignier?"

"Is that a kind of wine?"

"Yes, my dear, a white wine. You'll find some in the refrigerator inside the cellar."

"Yes, sir. I'll be right back."

When I returned with the bottle he'd already started eating.

I smiled at him as I opened the wine and poured him a glass.

"I could smell this cooking, Miss Swan. It took all of my will-power not to come downstairs and see what you were making."

"You're always welcome to."

"I like to be surprised. Dinner is the only part of my day that I don't know what to expect."

I nodded. "If that's all for now, sir, I'll go back to the kitchen."

He looked up at me. From this angle his eyelashes looked so long, his cheekbones so sculpted. Without realizing I was doing it, I bit my bottom lip. His eyes moved to my mouth and I quickly released my lip, folding my hands behind my back.

"Yes, Miss Swan, you may go. I'll call you when I need more wine." He took another bite of chicken as I was leaving.

I helped myself to some potatoes and haricots verts and sat at the island to wait. It was about fifteen minutes before he called me back in to freshen his wine glass and I noticed he only had a few bites left.

"Miss Swan, wait here beside me as I finish, if you don't mind."

"Of course not, sir." I stood like I had before, with my hands behind my back.

He took the last bite of chicken. "You do realize that fixing such delicious meals only works to my benefit."

"That's the idea, Mr. Cullen."

He took a sip of wine and scooped up the last bite of potatoes. "And you really don't have to exert yourself on my behalf, you do know that, too, right?"

"I know, sir."

"But I won't stop you. This is the best I've eaten in years." He smiled up at me and forked the last few beans on his plate.

"Thank you, Mr. Cullen." His praise was drawing that familiar surge of elation from me. I tightened my hands and looked down at the floor.

A moment later he was finished, and pushed his plate to the side. Then he leaned back in his chair, fingering his wine glass. "Now, my dear, I hope tonight's dessert didn't fall victim to your violent temper."

"No," I laughed, "I showed mercy today and I think you'll like it." I picked up his plate and took it to the kitchen, returning with a small dish of chilled mousse and a dessert spoon.

I put it down in front of him with a smile. "Can I get you anything else, sir?"

"No, thank you." I started to go but he lifted his hand. "Wait just a moment." He took a spoonful of mousse. "Extraordinary. You made this yourself?"

"Yes, sir." I couldn't help but smile as I could see how much he liked it.

"Is there enough for you to have some?"

"I made a whole batch, but the rest isn't chilled yet."

"Sit."

"Pardon me?"

"Sit." He gestured to the chair to his left. I pulled it out and sat down. "You have to try this." He lifted his spoon to my mouth and I opened it for him to ease in his spoon. He watched carefully as I closed my mouth and he pulled out the spoon. "Delicious?" I nodded.

He took another spoonful for himself. "I don't remember the last time I had chocolate mousse."

"I'm glad you like it, sir. But I couldn't have made it without your cocoa retrieval skills, so you should get partial credit."

He shook his head. "No, this is all you." He took another spoonful and lifted it to me. I opened my mouth for his spoon and he eased it in gently, again watching my mouth. This time some mousse escaped his spoon and he reached up to wipe my lip with his thumb. I felt frozen in place as I watched him lick his thumb clean of whatever errant mousse he'd found on my lips. "Too good to waste," he said with a smile. I smiled back automatically, but was having difficulty maintaining my composure. My pulse had picked up and I surrepticiously clasped my suddenly shaky hands together in my lap. I could still feel his thumb on my lip. There was only a spoonful left and I watched him take half of it, then scoop up the last bit and offer it to me again. I reached for the spoon this time and he watched me eat it. Then he sighed, put the spoon down in the empty dish and stretched back in his chair.

"Another wonderful meal, Miss Swan."

"Thank you, Mr. Cullen."

He looked at me with half a smile. "Thank you for sharing dessert with me."

"You're welcome."

He rested another minute or two and then put his napkin on the table. "I'm going to do a little more work. I'll see you in the morning." He seemed reluctant to go, but finally rose and pushed in his chair. I did the same.

"Goodnight, Mr. Cullen."

"Goodnight, Miss Swan."

I cleared his dishes, started the dishwasher, wiped the counter tops and set up the coffee, on auto-pilot while I struggled to comprehend why his feeding me the mousse had affected me so strongly. I replayed the moment in my mind and realized that it wasn't being asked to sit with him at the table, or sharing his spoon. It was when he'd wiped my lip with his thumb and then put it back in his mouth. Just as I was turning out the light, I finally figured it out.

I felt like Mr. Cullen had kissed me.

That night I lay in bed, slowly drawing my fingers over the velvet bedspread. I was imagining what it would feel like if Mr. Cullen really kissed me. I knew his beard felt raspy but his lips looked soft. So soft. I remembered how good he'd smelled when I'd hugged him in the garage, and how strong his arms had felt the night he carried me upstairs.

I rolled over and buried my face in my pillow with a quiet groan. I had it bad. Really bad. For my boss. I wanted Mr. Cullen. I'd tried to fight it, but every time he called me his dear, every time he complimented my cooking, every time he did something nice for me, my defenses gave a little and tonight when he fed me the mousse, they'd thrown up the white rag of surrender. I wanted him. I wanted him more than I'd ever wanted anyone before in my life.

The problem was I didn't have a clue what to do about it. I didn't know if he felt the same way about me. I knew he liked me, cared about my safety and wanted me to be happy. He'd given me signals that I was attractive to him, but I didn't know how much stock to put into them. Maybe he routinely chose uniforms for his housekeepers that flattered their coloring. But Mrs. Whitlock hadn't been wearing a dress the two times I'd met her; she'd been in pants and, yes, I remembered, a different top each time. But maybe he routinely fingered his housekeepers' hair, their necklaces, maybe he routinely fed them mousse. I couldn't imagine it happening with Mrs. Whitlock. No way. But that still didn't mean he wanted me the way I did him. In his eyes, I might just be a pretty new toy to play with, a young, eager-to-please new housekeeper on whom he could practice his manners, his teasing, his flirting. He was so much better looking than I, it just didn't make sense.

Okay, Bella, I thought, try to be rational about this. If he doesn't like you 'that way,' what are you going to do? I'm going to continue with my duties, finish out the summer, try not to torture myself too much over him, and move on with my life in the fall, I answered myself. Good. You can do that. And if he does like you 'that way' and eventually makes a pass at you? I'm going to grab a hold of him and ravish him on the spot. Really, Bella? Really, Bella, I answered myself with a chuckle. Obediently, of course.

I finally began to relax, realizing the silliness of my 'problem.' I wasn't the first girl to ever have a crush on her boss and I wouldn't be the last. Things would work themselves out, they always did. With that reassuring thought, I finally felt myself begin to drift asleep.

The next morning Mr. Cullen was already in the kitchen reading a newspaper when I came downstairs. We said our good mornings as I helped myself to coffee.

"Mr. Cullen, would it be all right if I invited Alice over for a while this morning?"

"Of course it would. You don't have to ask me first. Just don't play your records too loud."

He looked up at me for the first time and took in the fact that I was wearing my dress and my hair was down.

"Miss Swan, how many times do I have to warn you about sneaking in extra hours?"

"Oh, I'm not working, don't worry. I just decided to put this on now so I don't have to change later." That wasn't completely untrue, right?

"Hmm." He decided to accept my explanation. "I was thinking of making myself some eggs. Would you like some?"

"I don't know what I'm in the mood for yet," I said, opening the fridge to check out my options. The apples were still there and weren't getting any fresher. I pulled one out and held it up to him. "Okay if I have this?"

He nodded with an 'of course' expression on his handsome face. Then he got up, came over, and stood just behind me. He pointed to the package that held tonight's pork tenderloin, and said simply, "Dinner?"

"Yep. No surprises for you tonight."

He reached over my shoulder and pulled two eggs out of the bin.

"That's no fun."

"Well, the day is young. Maybe I'll think of something." I took a bite of the apple.

He had moved over to the stove and was cracking the eggs into a pan. I watched his fingers deftly handle the shells. Oh, to be an eggshell.

"When I saw the pork in the fridge, I realized that if you bring home something you don't want me to eat, let me know. I wouldn't cook the tenderloin, obviously, but other ingredients might disappear into my lunch if you don't warn me first."

"Okay, no problem. Stay away from the artichoke in the produce drawer and don't go anywhere near the watercress."

"And now I know the rest of the menu," he said with an exaggerated sigh.

"You might think you do."

"Are you sassing me, Miss Swan?"

"What if I am?" I teased back.

He'd picked up a spatula and was fiddling with his eggs.

"Don't make me bend you over my knee and teach you a lesson." He waved the spatula at me and raised one eyebrow.

"You wouldn't!"

"No," he laughed, "I would never."

"Then why would you say that?" I was half laughing, half indignant.

He came and stood in front of me, putting one finger under my chin. "Because I haven't seen you blush yet this morning, and we can't have that, can we? Ah, there it is."


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

Alice was duly impressed with the house.

"My God, this guy must be filthy rich!" She exclaimed as I showed her the library.

"Ssh. He's working right down the hall. He might hear you." Mr. Cullen's door was closed, and I'd closed the library doors behind us, but Alice was by far the loudest thing I'd heard in the house since I started working here.

"What exactly does he write, best-sellers?" She asked in almost a whisper.

"I don't actually know. I've never asked him."

"Bella, Bella, Bella." She shook her head in dismay as if dealing with a slow child. "There's this thing? It's called Google? It's on the internet. Do you know what an internet is?"

"Shut up, Alice, I've just never thought to look him up. Sue me."

"No, sue this guy. Get him to sexually harass you or something. Then all of this could be yours." She spun around with her arms extended.

"He lets me use it whenever I want already. And he'd never harass me, he's too much of a gentleman."

"Lure him in, girl. Show some skin."

"Will you stop?"

"What's this you're wearing, anyway?" She fingered my sleeve.

"It's my uniform."

"Uniform? It looks like a normal dress."

"He didn't like me in my regular clothes. He said he wanted me to look more like an employee and not a student, so he got me this to wear. Since I wear it for work, it's a uniform."

"Turn around."

I gave her a spin.

"It fits you perfectly."

"I know. And it's comfortable so I didn't make an issue out of wearing it."

"That color looks really good on you, too."

"He chose the color. It's the same as the curtains in his office."

"Why do you have it on now if you're not technically working yet?"

Alice's questions were starting to make me feel a little squirmy. "I could tell yesterday morning when I was in my jeans and t-shirt that he didn't like it, so I just decided to wear this all day from now on. It's no big deal."

She came even closer and peered into my eyes. Then she lifted my hands and examined my palms. Finally she picked up a strand of my hair and gave it a sniff.

"What are you doing?"

"Checking you for signs of zombie-ism."

"Good lord, Alice, you're being ridiculous."

"Probably. But you can't be too careful around zombies, especially ones in pretty dresses that enhance their natural features. Do you have any idea how good this dress makes your ass look?"

"What?" My voice came out almost as loud as hers had been before.

"That's what I thought. You never look in the mirror, do you? You are rocking this dress. You're making me want one."

"Jesus, Alice, are you sure?" I craned my neck over my back but of course couldn't see anything. Suddenly the way Mr. Cullen watched me vacuum his office yesterday started to make sense. Had he been checking me out? Why did I hope that maybe he had? Oh right, the 'problem.'

"Of course I'm sure. I never lie."

"It's just a coincidence it fits me well. It's not like he took my measurements."

She gave me an odd look. "I'm not talking about the fit, I'm talking about how it looks. That was no coincidence." Then she finally took pity on my discomfort and changed the subject.

"So, I was thinking about a weekend trip to LaPorte. Do you want to?"

"This weekend?"

"Yeah, why not?"

"Sure, that sounds good. I can leave Friday night after dinner."

"Good. I'll call you Friday and we'll work out the details. I already know a place where we can stay, and my dad said we could use his car."

"I can't wait. There's an art museum there I've been dying to visit."

"I'll do art museums with you during the day if you come out to clubs with me at night."

"Deal."

"Deal."

Alice left around eleven, and Mr. Cullen left at twelve. As I fixed myself a light lunch, I wondered what his Wednesday appointment could be. And I wanted to know more about why Mrs. Whitlock had quit. I'd heard her version of it, but I wanted to hear his. Had he tried to touch her hair? I felt nauseous at the thought of it. He'd told me I was the only employee he'd ever wanted to touch and I wanted to believe him. Oh, I so wanted to believe him. Dwelling on the things I didn't know about Mr. Cullen eventually led me to Alice's question this morning about what he wrote. Now there's something I can solve, I thought, putting my plate in the sink and running up to my room.

I got my laptop up and running and typed his name in my search bar.

"No results for Edward Cullen. Did you mean Edmonds Culinary School?"

What the hell?

The urge to snoop was almost overwhelming as I cleaned his office that afternoon. I'd decided after a fruitless fifteen minutes on my computer that Mr. Cullen must write under a pseudonym or maybe he was a technical writer or a ghost writer. Or maybe his money came from somewhere else altogether, and he merely dabbled in writing and hadn't published yet. Or maybe he didn't write at all; he'd never said he did. Alice was the one who told me that and although she never lies, she was wrong on occasion.

My mind was still bubbling with ideas as I cleaned his windows. I'd managed to dust his desk without opening any drawers and felt very proud of my self control. Then it occurred to me that although these huge windows were in so many of the rooms, the ones in the office were the only ones Mr. Cullen asked me to clean. Ah, that was something else I could do to repay Mr. Cullen, I could clean the other windows on days I had extra time, like today. Not only had I started my work a little earlier than usual, but not having to vacuum the office meant I was finishing up in here at two.

I wasn't especially looking forward to doing a whole extra bank of windows, but I carried the stepladder and cleaning supplies into the library and got started. At three I watched as Mr. Cullen drove up. He saw me at the window and raised his eyebrows in a question. I gave him a reassuring smile and wave, and it wasn't long before I heard his footsteps on the stairs.

"Miss Swan, what you doing?"

"What does it look like? I'm exercising my arms."

"This isn't necessary. I have a service that comes in twice a year and does big jobs like the windows and rugs. I only have you do my office windows because I spend so much time in there and I like them cleaned more often."

"Well, I had extra time today and just thought I'd keep working. I'm almost done so is it okay if I finish?"

"I guess it's all right, if you're sure you don't mind."

"I'm sure."

He strolled around the room for a bit, looking at his books, while I continued working. I was finally down to the lowest tier of panes and had to get down on my knees to reach them. Mr. Cullen continued to linger in the room, eventually seating himself at the piano and lifting the lid. A few notes floated into the air, and I glanced over at him. He was watching me work.

"Am I bothering you, Miss Swan?"

"Oh no. Quite the opposite. I'd love to hear you play."

He did a few warm up arpeggios and then began a piece I didn't recognize but sounded difficult to my untrained ears. The music alternated between loud swells of minor chords and delicate passages of a haunting melody. I continued wiping at the windows but was only cleaning in theory as I'd closed my eyes and let myself get immersed in the music. By the time he brought the piece to a poignant conclusion, I'd stopped moving altogether.

"That was incredible. What was it?"

"Rachmaninoff." He shook his head in self-deprecation. "Like I said, I'm a little rusty."

"Are you kidding? That was the most beautiful thing I've ever heard."

"Thank you."

"I'll wash the windows in here any time if you play while I work."

He chuckled and looked over at me, still kneeling on the floor. Eventually he rose, closed the piano, and headed toward the door.

"I may take you up on that. But I assure you, my music is far from being the most beautiful thing in the room."

I thought about his comment while I worked on my homemade ravioli (surprise, Mr. Cullen!). He must have been referring to me, right? Did he really think I was beautiful? I knew I was okay, but beautiful? No, he must have meant something else. I replayed the comment in my head a couple times, trying to picture myself. I'd been on the floor, kneeling by the windows, hardly the most becoming position, but then I remembered the time I knelt in his office, when he stood above me without speaking, and the time I fell asleep on the dining-room floor. Did he like seeing me kneel? Was that it? If it was, it should bother me, right? So why didn't it? I decided not to think about it right now and focus on dinner. It wasn't like I was going to go around kneeling at his feet. No matter how much I was trying to think of ways to please him, that was not going to happen. Although it already had, and I'd liked it.

Wednesday's night dinner was Italian themed, with rosemary and garlic marinated tenderloin, artichoke and cheese stuffed ravioli, and a watercress salad. The ravioli was the only challenging part, as I'd never made it by hand before, but it wasn't that hard, just time-consuming. I'd never cooked artichokes before either and they took longer to steam than I'd expected. The tenderloin was resting and the salad was ready, but I needed ten more minutes to finish the ravioli when six rolled around. I decided to serve Mr. Cullen his salad first and brought it out on a separate plate.

"Good evening, Miss Swan."

"Good evening, sir. I hope you don't mind being served in courses tonight." I put his salad down.

"No, my dear, not at all."

"Good. I need a few more minutes to finish the rest of the meal. Would you like a drink with your salad?"

"I'll have another glass of viognier, thank you."

"Yes, sir."

I pulled last night's bottle out of the fridge and brought it back to the dining-room, poured him a glass and left the bottle on the table, then hurried back to the kitchen to boil the pasta and slice the tenderloin. I had his plate ready when he called for me, and carried it in, swapping it for his empty salad plate.

"What's this, my dear?"

"Pork tenderloin with artichoke stuffed ravioli, sir."

"You made these yourself?" He gestured to the ravioli with his fork.

"Yes, sir. They took a little longer than I expected. I'm sorry they weren't done right at six."

He shook his head, chuckled, and started lifting one to his mouth. "I'm sure they'll be well worth the wait."

"Thank you, Mr. Cullen. Would you like more wine?"

He nodded and I refilled his glass, then smiled to him as I began to return to the kitchen. A slight frown crossed his features as I left. I ate some salad as I waited at the island, hoping he was enjoying his dinner. Was the flavor off in the artichoke stuffing, is that why he'd frowned? I was just getting up to taste one for myself when he called me.

"Yes, Mr. Cullen?" I said as I returned to the dining-room and stood beside him with my hands behind my back. His wine glass was still full, his meal only barely eaten. I got a sinking feeling in my stomach that he didn't like it as he looked up at me with a questioning expression.

"Miss Swan, this is the best pasta I've ever had." Relief washed over me and I smiled back at him. "Have you tasted it yet?"

"No, sir."

He lifted a ravioli on his fork for me to try. I took it into my mouth and my eyes widened. They had turned out well.

"What kind of cheese did you use?"

"Asiago, sir."

"I wish I could give you some tenderloin as well, it's perfect."

"I'm so glad you like it." The relief I felt was apparent in my voice.

He looked up at me with a very satisfied expression, then offered me his wine glass. I took a sip, and gave it back to him.

"Did you make enough for your dinner, Miss Swan?"

"Oh yes, I made way too much. You can have some for lunch tomorrow if you want."

"My god, but you spoil me." He turned his attention to his plate and took a bite of tenderloin, then offered me another ravioli. "I can afford to be generous since I get more for lunch tomorrow."

"You're already too generous, Mr. Cullen." I said with a smile.

"You bring it out in me, my dear," he said. "You can go and eat your dinner now. I just wanted to pay my compliments to the chef."

"Thank you, Mr. Cullen." I retreated to the kitchen, thinking about his comment. He was becoming a different person at dinner, less authoritative and more affectionate, if that was the right word. He almost seemed to want me to linger with him in the dining-room, asking me to share his dessert last night, calling me back to try the ravioli. It was a bit unusual, definitely, but I didn't mind at all. I could tell it made him happy and that made me happy.

He called me back in when he was finished. I picked up his empty plate and asked if he'd like some more mousse for dessert.

"Absolutely, I would." I came back with a bowl of mousse and a spoon, put them down in front of him.

"You'll share with me again?"

"Yes, sir. I'd love to." I sat in the same chair I used last night.

"That's my girl." He raised the first spoonful to my mouth. I kept my eyes on his as he watched my mouth close over the spoon.

"Is it as good as it was last night?"

I nodded, swallowing. It had held up just fine overnight. He took a taste and nodded, too, agreeing with me.

"Miss Swan, thank you for humoring me."

That took me by surprise. Here I'd been trying to puzzle out his behavior when he was perfectly aware that he was asking me to do something a bit odd. We looked at each other and a smile crept up on my face as I said the first thing I was thinking.

"Mr. Cullen, I don't mind. In fact, I like it."

"You do?" He looked at me intently.

I nodded and shrugged. It was true.

"Have some more." He lifted his spoon, and it wasn't long before the mousse was finished. He sighed and again seemed reluctant to leave. He put his napkin on the table and then braced his hands on his knees, looking at me.

"Goodnight, Miss Swan, and thank you," he said, pushing himself up, then reaching out and teasing his long fingers into my hair, his thumbs sweeping once across my cheekbones, as he cupped my face and leant down to kiss the top of my head. "Thank you for everything."

**A/N: Thank you all so much for your wonderful reviews, and to everyone who's favoriting and alerting as well – I'm so happy that you like the story thus far. I know things are going slowly, but as much as I've tried – and believe me, I've tried – I just can't get these characters together any faster without it feeling too contrived. I hope the daily updates help :) - kts.**


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12

He kissed me. Maybe not where I wanted him to, but he did kiss me. I laid in bed that night reliving the feel of his fingers in my hair, his thumbs on my cheeks, so gentle, so tender, like the sweep across my lip he'd done with his thumb. I wanted his hands on me everywhere, I wanted him to kiss me everywhere. But I still didn't know how he felt about me. Kissing the top of my head was hardly a bold declaration of desire, but I wouldn't expect that of him anyway. He was too reserved, too well-mannered, too self-controlled to show that even if he was feeling it.

Apart from the evening I'd been in crisis mode over my paper, the only times he'd touched me outside the dining-room had been to help me out of his car and once under my chin. I didn't count the hug when he gave me my bike because I initiated it. But in the dining-room, he'd played with my hair, touched my face, kissed my head, and now he was asking me to sit and share his dessert, which meant more opportunities to touch me. I could only take that as a good sign, I thought, curling up on my side and eventually letting sleep drift over me.

I slept in Thursday morning past nine, my body finally adjusting to the end of school and lack of morning dorm noises. I stretched and lay still for a few minutes, luxuriating in the silence and the comfort of my bed, then got up and went over the windows. I pulled open the heavy curtains and had to squint at the bright sunlight. I opened one of the windows and a warm breeze blew in; it was going to be another hot day. My mind wandered over last night's dinner, my tasks for the day, the dinner I was planning for tonight, and I smiled to myself. I was already looking forward to it.

I put on some shorts and a t-shirt and went downstairs for breakfast. The kitchen was empty so I assumed Mr. Cullen was already working. He'd left me half a pot of coffee, and set out the bread and toaster. I ate quickly and quietly, put my dishes in the sink, double-checked my grocery list and took off on my bike for Southbay's.

On my way there, it occurred to me that I should make a first course or an appetizer. Mr. Cullen seemed to like drawing out dinner, and that was fine by me as well. I was making crab cakes and cole slaw tonight, so another salad was probably too much. What would go well with the rest of the dinner? I got everything I needed for the main course and dessert and then wandered through the produce section, trying to get an idea for the appetizer. The leeks caught my eye and I recalled that the first dish Mr. Cullen had declared a favorite had been the halibut with leek sauce. I grabbed a couple, found some organic potatoes, and headed up to check out.

Still no sign of Mr. Cullen when I got home shortly after eleven. I put the groceries away and went upstairs to check my emails, shower and change. I dried my hair and put on a little mascara, then went back downstairs to eat a quick lunch. Mr. Cullen had left me a bowl with the last of the ravioli. I smiled as I put in the microwave; this was the second meal today he'd set out for me. After I was done, I put my dishes in the dishwasher, noting that Mr. Cullen had put away last night's clean ones, and started preparing the cole slaw. The rest of the meal I could make later.

I spent the next couple of hours sweeping and mopping. When I did my room, I put my i-pod on, humming along with the music as much as I dared. I didn't hum at all as I worked in the library, but by the time I was working in the dining-room, I was singing under my breath. I finished the room and turned to take the equipment downstairs.

"Ah!" I nearly dropped the mop. Mr. Cullen was leaning against the wall just inside the door, his hands in his pockets, watching me with that odd look he'd had when I'd vacuumed his office. I pulled out my earbuds. "You startled me!"

"I'm sorry. I came down for a glass of water and heard you singing." He didn't look at all sorry.

"You don't look at all sorry."

"I'm relieved, mostly. I thought you were talking to yourself. This -" he gestured toward my i-pod "at least makes sense." He smiled and walked up to me, taking an earbud and putting it up to his ear. "Really, Miss Swan, you're listening to the Rolling Stones?"

"I like them."

"I would have thought you'd prefer something newer, hip-hop or something."

"I have some on here. I listen to a lot of different things."

"Different music for different chores?"

"No, this is the first time I've used it, but that's a good idea. I should put some Rachmaninoff on for when I'm working in the library." He handed me back my earbud. "And some death metal for when I'm making dessert."

He threw his head back and laughed, his face lighting up the way it did when he was really amused. I wished I could stop time, that he would always look this happy, this relaxed, this handsome, and that I could look at him forever.

The rest of the afternoon I spent in the kitchen. Dinner tonight was relatively easy, but I had an extra first course and a dessert to make, so time passed quickly. At six I brought Mr. Cullen his bowl of soup and a spoon.

"Good evening, sir."

"Good evening, Miss Swan. What's this?"

"Vichyssoise, sir."

"Vichyssoise. I've heard of it, but don't believe I've ever had the pleasure."

"I hope you like it, sir. Can I get you something to drink?"

"Will a white wine go well with the rest of the meal?"

I thought about the crab cakes and cole slaw, and nodded. "Yes, sir."

"All right. Please bring me a bottle of of whatever you like. I'll let you choose tonight."

I went down to the wine cellar and looked through the whites. I had no idea how to pair wines with food, so I just grabbed one whose label caught my eye and brought it back upstairs. I opened it at the table and poured Mr. Cullen a glass.

"Tell me, my dear. What exactly is vichyssoise?" He lifted a spoonful to his mouth.

"It's potatoes, leeks and cream, served chilled, sir."

"Mmm. Remarkable. That's all that's in it?"

"Pretty much. A little seasoning."

"Have you tasted it yet?"

"No, sir."

"Here, try some." He lifted his spoon up to me and I bent down to take a taste. I nodded and swallowed. It was really good, simple and refreshing.

He took a sip of wine, and then reached for the bottle, turning it to read the label. "A sauvignon blanc, perfect. What made you choose this one?"

"I liked the label."

He chuckled and handed me the wine glass. I took a sip and gave it back to him, nodding my approval. There was something flinty about the wine that balanced the cream and potatoes of the soup.

"Thank you, my dear, I'll let you know when I'm done."

"Yes, Mr. Cullen."

I went back to the kitchen and prepared his dinner plate. I was just finishing when he called. I carried in his plate and swapped it for his soup bowl.

"Would you like more wine, sir?"

"Yes, thank you. Are these crab cakes?"

"Yes, sir. The sauce is a caper-lemon butter."

"Did you make the cole slaw yourself?"

"Yes, sir."

"Such a treat." He poured some sauce on a crab cake and took a bite. "Mmm, delicious. Here, tell me what you think." He lifted his fork to me and I took the bite, smiling and nodding in agreement.

"You're really an excellent cook, Miss Swan. Have you ever thought of taking classes?"

"Thank you, but no I haven't." I laughed a little, remembering my futile google search yesterday. "I did run across one online accidentally the other day, though, Edmonds Culinary School. Maybe it's a sign."

"Accidentally?"

"I was googling something else." I said quickly and looked down.

"Edmonds Culinary School." He said the words slowly and started to grin. "What, or whom, were you googling?"

I looked down at him and bit my lip. He looked at my mouth and then raised his eyebrows and his eyes as he waited for my answer.

"I googled you, sir. I wanted to know what you write."

"What I write?" He took another bite of crab, not seeming at all bothered that I'd admitted to snooping into his background.

"Alice told me you're a writer and I was curious."

"You can ask me anything, my dear. I don't talk much about myself but that's out of habit, not because I have any secrets." He smiled at me fondly. "I'm just surprised my inquisitive housekeeper hasn't asked me before now."

I smiled back at him. "Mr. Cullen, what do you write?"

"I'm not a writer, technically, more of a translator."

"That explains it."

"Explains what?"

"I couldn't find anything about you online. I thought you wrote under a pseudonym, maybe, or were a ghost writer."

He chuckled. "Nothing so interesting, I'm afraid." He took a bite of cole slaw.

"What do you translate?"

"I have a contract with the University. If one of the international faculty wants to publish in English, I help them."

"They must pay you awfully well."

"Fairly well. But I have resources of my own. My parents passed away some years ago, and their estate allowed me to move here and buy this house."

"Oh, Mr. Cullen, I'm so sorry."

"It was a long time ago, Miss Swan."

"Still, I didn't mean to pry."

"It's all right, I assure you, Miss Swan." He handed me his wine glass with a reassuring smile. "Is there anything else you want to ask me?"

I shook my head. I was curious about so many things, but I wasn't going to ask him any more personal questions tonight. I felt so bad for him about his parents and didn't want to risk opening any other old sores. I took a sip of wine and put the glass back down on the table.

"I have a question for you, Miss Swan. Are there any crab cakes left over for my lunch tomorrow?"

I smiled. "Yes, sir, two more."

"But what are you going to have for dinner?"

"There's still some soup and cole slaw, sir, that will be plenty."

"All right, if you're sure. I'll let you know when I need you."

I went back to the kitchen and sat at the island. I'd just learned more about Mr. Cullen in five minutes than I had in the last three weeks. The fact that he was a translator was easy to absorb, but his parents' deaths was tragic. Even though my mother had left us, I still had her in my life, and even though my father was more of a buddy than a dad, he was still a rock I could rely upon. I couldn't imagine what it would be like to lose either of them, let alone both.

"Miss Swan, I'm finished."

I pushed the door open and approached Mr. Cullen, who had stretched back with a very satisfied look on his face, his empty plate pushed to the side. I loved seeing him like this, happy and content, and because of me.

"I made dessert tonight, sir. May I bring you some?"

"Yes, my dear Miss Swan. I'd love some."

I went back to the kitchen, cut a slice of cake and brought it back out with a clean fork.

"Would you like more wine, Mr. Cullen?"

"Hmm. I'm leaning toward a glass of port. Is this lemon cake?"

"Yes, sir. I had to try that recipe again to figure out what I did wrong."

"And did you?" He looked up at me and I was caught in his blue-eyed gaze, transfixed by his eyelashes that were long enough to be reflecting light from the chandelier.

"Hmm?"

"Did you solve the mystery of the murdered cake?"

I snapped out of my daze. "No, sir. Not a clue."

He chuckled and turned back to his plate. "Would you mind bringing me a small glass of port?"

I went over to the liquor cabinet and found the port near the gin, bent down to fish a small glass out of the lower shelf, poured the drink and turned to bring it back to the table. Mr. Cullen had twisted in his chair to watch me. I suppressed a smile as I brought it back to the table.

"Here you go, sir."

"Thank you." He took a bite of cake. "It's very good, Miss Swan, I'm glad you tried it again."

"Thank you."

"Will you have some?'

"I'd love to."

He tilted his head toward my chair and I sat. He lifted a forkful to my mouth and I reached forward to take it in. It was good, but I'd expected it to be more lemony.

"What do you think, my dear?"

"I'd have liked it to have a stronger lemon flavor."

"You like bold flavors."

"Maybe. I've never thought about it."

"And spicy food."

"Yes, definitely."

"What else do you like, Miss Swan?" His eyes were locked with mine and I said the first thing that popped into my head.

"I like working for you, Mr. Cullen."

"You do?" He smiled.

"Yes, sir, very much."

He looked down at his plate and took another bite of cake, passing me his glass of port with his free hand.

"I'm glad to hear it. I like you working for me as well. Your work thus far has been exemplary, and your cooking goes above and beyond what I expected when I hired you."

"Thank you, sir." I smiled and took a sip of port. "I like this, too." I said, as I gave him back his glass. "I've never had port before."

"No?" He swallowed his cake and frowned. "You are old enough to drink, aren't you?"

"Mr. Cullen, I'm twenty-one, a full-grown adult. It's perfectly legal for me to drink. In some cultures I'd even be considered an old maid."

"I find that very hard to believe."

"You'll have to trust me on that one. Anthropology major, remember?"

"Yes, of course. I bow to your greater knowledge of insane cultures which would consider you an old maid."

"How old are you, Mr. Cullen?"

He put his fork down and took a sip of port. "Thirty-four. Some cultures would consider me elderly. Right?" He was teasing me again, but there was undertone of seriousness. Did he really think he was old?

"I suppose some insane cultures might consider you an elder, but luckily not ours. Thirty-four's not old."

"No?" He raised one eyebrow and looked at me sideways.

"No." I said emphatically. He smiled down at his plate, forking up another bite and raising it up to my mouth.

We finished our cake but stayed at the table for another ten minutes, just talking. Finally Mr. Cullen put his napkin on the table, and rose to go. I stood too and collected our dishes. He lingered at the table, watching me, then sighed, and said, "Goodnight, Miss Swan."

"Goodnight, Mr. Cullen."

"Thank you for another lovely meal and lovely company." Then he bent down and kissed the top of my head again.

**A/N: Thanks to everyone who reviewed the last chapter and reassured me that the pace is okay - I much appreciate the feedback! - kts**


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13

Friday morning I dressed in shorts again since I was biking to Southbay's right after breakfast. Mr. Cullen was at the island when I entered the kitchen and as I poured myself some coffee I asked him if he had any special requests for dinner.

"No, I don't think so. Anything's fine."

I put some bread in the toaster and helped myself to the last apple.

"Mr. Cullen, I forgot to tell you before now, but Alice and I going to LaPorte this weekend. I hope that's all right."

He looked up me, his face registering surprise and maybe a little disappointment.

"Of course it's all right, Miss Swan, your weekends are your own. When are you leaving?"

"We haven't decided yet. Maybe tonight after dinner, maybe in the morning."

"There's a wonderful little art museum in LaPorte."

"I know. It's the first place I want to go."

"There's also a very good restaurant on James Street called 'Grand's."

"Thanks for the tip. We'll check it out."

"Where are you going to be staying?"

"Alice says she knows a place but she didn't tell me where."

"Ah." He drummed his fingers on the side of his mug. "Can I ask a favor of you, Miss Swan?"

"Of course you can, sir."

"Will you call me when you arrive to let me know you've gotten there safely?"

"Mr. Cullen, you don't have to worry about me. Full-grown adult, remember?"

I pulled the coffee carafe off its stand and walked over to refill his mug. After I was done, he put a hand on my wrist and held me there.

"I do worry, though. I can't help it." His thumb rubbed lightly over my wrist bone. "You know how I am about your safety."

"All right, Mr. Cullen, I'll call you when we get there."

"And you'll call me if anything goes wrong during the weekend and you need help?"

"Yes, I will."

"Promise?"

"I promise."

He let go of my wrist and let out a breath, his shoulders relaxing.

"Thank you."

I put the coffee pot back and started buttering my toast.

"Miss Swan, I apologize if I seem overbearing. You must feel as if you've left home only to have gained a new father."

"It's okay, sir, I really don't mind. It's good that you'll know where I am this weekend, and that I get there okay. And no," I added, keeping my eyes down. "I definitely don't think of you as my father."

He cleared his throat. "Good."

When I got to Southbay's Mike helped me pick out enough things to get Mr. Cullen through the weekend. Once it was all wrapped and packed, I could barely lift my basket.

"How are you going to carry all that, Bella? Want me to call you a taxi?"

"Nope. Mr. Cullen gave me a bike."

"That was nice of him."

"It was. He didn't want me to feel like I was stuck at his house during my off hours."

"Stuck at his house? I don't get it."

"I'm living there for the summer. I couldn't find a decent apartment, so Mr. Cullen offered me one of his guest rooms."

"Really? I'm amazed to hear that."

"Why?"

"I don't know, I guess because the housekeeper he had before you, Mrs. Whitlock, did you meet her?"

"Yeah, she trained me in."

"She was always going on about how much he kept to himself, how she never saw him, like he was avoiding her or something."

"Well, he's not like that with me. We see each other all the time, and we even eat meals together." I was surprised by how quickly I rose to Mr. Cullen's defense.

"Wow. I guess she had him pegged wrong then."

"Maybe. Well, I've got to get going, Mike, thanks for your help and I'll see you next week."

"Yep. You have a good weekend, kiddo."

"You too."

Well, that was interesting, I thought, as I pedaled home. Mrs. Whitlock thought Mr. Cullen avoided her. I felt a lot better knowing that.

I took a quick shower when I got home, put on my dress, and called Alice. We agreed that since it was a two hour drive, and I couldn't leave here until eight tonight at the earliest, it would make more sense for her to pick me up in the morning. She wanted to start early so we'd have the whole day in LaPorte; I managed to talk her down from six AM to seven, and said I'd see her in the morning.

I still had a couple of hours before starting work and decided to take it easy. I was going to be on my feet in the kitchen all afternoon, so I took my book down to the library to read for a while. I pulled the curtains open, turned one of the chairs so it was in the sun, and sat down. After a few minutes I kicked off my flats and curled my feet up underneath me, sinking deeper into the chair. Eventually I discovered that the most comfortable position was sideways, with my bare feet hanging over one of the thickly-padded arms. Perfect. I snuggled down with my book propped on my chest and was soon lost to the world.

Maybe an hour later I heard Mr. Cullen leave his office. He paused at the library door and must have seen my feet hanging off the side of the chair because a moment later he appeared in front of me, standing over my feet, his hands in his pockets.

"You look like a cat taking a nap in the sun."

"I feel like a cat reading a book in the sun."

"Cats can't read."

"I can't nap."

"No?"

I shook my head. "Napping just makes me feel more tired. Weird, I know, for a college student."

"Well, unusual maybe."

"It's weird. You can say it."

"But are you ticklish like a normal person?" He was eying my bare feet, but kept his hands in his pockets.

"Mr. Cullen!" I yelled at him, laughing and yanking my feet away. My skirt rode up over my knees and half way up my legs. "Don't you dare!"

He just laughed and turned away toward the windows, deliberately giving me a second to pull my skirt down and sit up.

"Sorry, Miss Swan."

"I won't tolerate any tickling. I'm warning you. You'll end up seriously injured if you ever try."

"By what?" He laughed and turned back to me. "Your spastic kicks?"

"Oh, worse than that. I have a whole arsenal. Flailing elbows, flapping hands, hip checks, head butts, you name it."

He laughed out loud, taking one hand out of his pocket to rub his face. "My god, I wouldn't stand a chance, would I?"

"No. You wouldn't." I stood up, walked over to him and poked him in the chest. "So consider yourself warned. I'd hate to have to hurt your pretty face."

His expression changed a little at that comment but he kept his smile.

"So would my housekeeper care to join me for lunch? I was on my way down when I saw you in here."

"I'd love to." I went back to the chair and started putting my shoes back on.

"You can leave them off if you want. I don't mind if you're barefoot."

"Yes, sir, " I said with a smile.

We were sitting at the island sharing the left-over crab cakes when he asked me if I had a busy afternoon ahead of me.

"Not really. Today I do the bathrooms and they go pretty quickly. I'll be down here the rest of the time."

"Something special for dinner tonight?"

"If it turns out, yes. But actually I'm going to be making some meals for you to have over the weekend."

"No, absolutely not. That's not part of your job."

"I know it's not, but I don't want you to have to cook for yourself or order take-out while I'm gone."

"I can't let you do that, Miss Swan, or pretty soon you'll be cooking dinners on weekends as well."

"Well, what's wrong with that? If I'm here, I don't mind."

"But I do. I could very easily start taking advantage of your generous nature if you let me."

"Mr. Cullen, you can't take advantage of something freely offered, remember?"

He just cocked his head at me, clearly recalling his words when he'd asked me to move in.

"Okay, how's this. You let me make these dishes for you just this once, I mean, I've got a fridge full of ingredients that are just going to be sitting there all weekend otherwise, and when I get back Sunday night, if you're still totally opposed to me doing some cooking on weekends, then I won't do it again. I wasn't going to make anything super fancy, anyway."

He hesitated, but finally acknowledged with a nod that he'd agree to that condition.

"That reminds me, when you are leaving tonight?"

"I'm not actually. Alice is picking me up tomorrow morning at seven."

"Oh, good. Then I won't worry about you driving at night."

I gave him a little eye roll, and said, "I guess not."

"Well, in that case, I hope you're making something I can eat very, very slowly for dinner." He rose with a smirky smile of his own, put our plates in the sink and left the room with one last "See you at six."

I finished the bathrooms and changing his sheets in no time and was soon at work in the kitchen. I turned on the radio to keep me company, since I was going to be here for a while. I worked on the weekend meals for a while and then stepped out onto the patio to inspect an old charcoal grill I'd spotted earlier. It needed a little dusting off but thankfully looked perfectly workable. I pulled it out into the center of the patio, cleaned out the old ashes, dumped in the new briquettes I'd bought at Southbay's, and went back inside to marinate the steaks. Mr. Cullen was getting filet mignon tonight, grilled, with a roquefort-shallot sauce. I was pretty sure he was going to like it.

At five I lit the briquettes and left the grill open while they heated. The steaks were done marinating and I gave them a thorough dusting of salt and plenty of ground pepper. By now, with the grill going, it was time to start the first course. I went back to the fridge and pulled out the package of oysters. Giving them a quick rinse in the sink, I left them there unshucked and prepared a quick butter and Tabasco reduction on the stove. Once that was done, I checked the grill. Perfect. The oysters went on, the shells began to open, the oysters came off. I carried them into the house and shucked them open, careful not to burn myself on the hot shells and leaving each delectable oyster on the bottom of its shell, immersed in its own beautiful juices. I put them aside on a serving platter with a small bowl of the butter sauce and went back outside to make the steaks. Once they were done and resting, I quickly set up Mr. Cullen's place setting, then hurried back to the kitchen, where I tightened my apron and straightened my hair. At six on the dot I walked in with the oysters.

"Miss Swan."

"Mr. Cullen."

"What's this?

"An appetizer, sir. Oysters."

"Oysters?"

"Yes. I hope you like them, sir. Would you like a drink to go with them?"

"Would white wine go with the rest of the meal?"

"Not tonight, sir."

"In that case, I'll have a martini."

I nodded and made his drink, and returned to the table, placing his drink above his plate.

"I've never had these before. What do I do?"

"Spoon some of the sauce on top of one, then eat it with your fork."

He did what I said and put the oyster in his mouth. He looked up at me with an almost anguished expression and for a second I thought I'd made a horrible mistake.

He swallowed, still looking at me. "That was the best thing I've ever eaten.'

I must have been beaming, I was so happy he liked them. Oysters were a staple growing up and I'd been so happy to find some at Southbay's this morning.

"I had no idea these things were so delicious," he muttered to himself as he reached for another. "Are there any extras for you to have?"

"No, sir, I only bought a dozen."

"Sit, please."

I took my seat.

"Here." He slipped an oyster into my mouth and I inwardly agreed with him. They'd turned out perfectly.

"Add these to my favorites, Miss Swan."

"Yes, sir. I'm glad you like them." He offered me another, this time looking into my eyes as he fed me.

"Imagine, all the time I've wasted in my life when I could have been eating oysters."

I laughed. "I'll help you make up for lost time this summer, I promise."

He offered me the last one but I shook my head. He smiled his thanks to me as he ate it. "That was amazing, Miss Swan. I'm kind of speechless."

"There's no way the rest of dinner is going top that."

He looked at me so affectionately, I knew there was no way I was misreading his expression. I felt a blush start to creep up my neck and rose with his plate. "But I'll get it for you now, if you're ready."

"Yes, my dear, I am. But walk slowly."

I rose and walked into the kitchen as slowly as I could, wondering if Mr. Cullen was looking at my behind or drawing out dinner or both. All good, I thought to myself as I gently covered his filet mignon with the sauce, scooped some mashed potatoes with roasted garlic next to it, added a side of fresh peas I'd lightly drizzled with lemon, and brought his plate back in.

"Would you like me to freshen your martini?" I asked as I lowered the plate to the table.

"No thank you, my dear. I'm fine for now. But please, sit down again."

He cut into his filet mignon and put his head back as he savored it. "You grilled this." He said after swallowing.

"Yes, sir. I saw the grill outside a while ago and decided to use it tonight."

He continued eating in silence, the only sounds in the room the scraping of his knife and fork. He looked at me while he ate with a serious expression that I couldn't quite read. Finally he offered me some potatoes and peas, which I happily took, having got quite hungry myself.

"My dear, that was possibly the best meal I've ever eaten in my life," he said, pushing his empty plate to the side.

"I'm so glad you liked it, Mr. Cullen. There's still some cake if you'd like dessert tonight."

He shook his head and looked at me fondly. "I don't think I could eat another bite if I tried."

"Can I get you a nightcap?"

He closed his eyes briefly and sighed, a smile playing across his face. "Yes, my dear, a brandy. Get yourself one too, if you'd like."

I got up and moved his plate to the other end of the table, then went to the liquor cabinet and poured two snifters of brandy.

"Have you had brandy before, Miss Swan?" He asked as I set our drinks down and resumed my seat.

"My dad gave me a taste once." I smiled and took a sip. "Wow. This is much better than I remember."

He chuckled and took a sip of his, keeping his eyes on me. He was silent for a few moments and then leaned forward, resting his forearms on the table and fiddling with his glass. "Miss Swan, would you mind if I changed the rule about waiting for me in the kitchen? I like your company at dinner."

I looked at him in surprise. "No, sir, I wouldn't mind at all."

"You don't have to say yes. I won't hold it against you."

"I'd rather sit out here with you, sir, than by myself in the kitchen. You're much better company than the refrigerator."

"High praise." He laughed, and took a sip of brandy.

"Well, the fridge is mad at me for spending too much time with the stove."

"Is it giving you the cold shoulder?"

"Ha!" It was my turn to laugh. "Good one, Mr. Cullen." I smiled widely at him.

Suddenly his expression changed. "Oh, I should pay you tonight in case I don't see you before you leave in the morning." He stood and moved toward the door. "I'll be right back."

I sipped at my brandy while he was gone. It was affecting me a little bit, not having eaten very much, and I rested my head back against my chair, closing my eyes.

Mr. Cullen came back in, sat down, and put my envelope down next to my snifter. "Here you are, my dear, enough to get you to LaPorte and back."

"Thank you, Mr. Cullen." I smiled at him with my head still back.

"No, thank you, Miss Swan." He took a sip of his brandy and looked at me, then picked up my hand and raised it to his lips, looking up at me from under his eyebrows as he kissed the back of it.. "For everything you do for me." He continued to hold my gaze, while he lowered my hand and put his on top of mine, lightly stroking my fingers. His lips had felt so warm on my hand, and now his fingers felt so delicate, belying the strength with which I'd heard them play the piano. I could feel my pulse starting to pick up and I bit my lip to try to get control of my body.

"Don't do that." Mr. Cullen smiled at me and lifted his hand to my mouth, gently pulling my bottom lip free and rubbing his thumb over it. "I don't like it when it looks like you're hurting yourself."

I swallowed and found my voice. "It doesn't hurt, Mr. Cullen. I'm not a masochist."

He chuckled at me and took a sip of brandy. "Why do you do it? Bite your lip sometimes, I mean."

I took a sip of brandy, too. "I'm not even aware I'm doing it most of the time, but when I am aware of it, I'm usually trying not to blush."

"Another reason not to do it. I love it when you blush. You look so innocent." He looked down into his brandy, then back up at me.

"But it's embarrassing to blush at my age. I'm not a little girl, and not as innocent as you might think, Mr. Cullen." I smiled at him and raised one eyebrow, trying to give him a worldly-wise look.

He laughed. "No one is any more, my dear, that's why it's so refreshing."

He was smiling that way that made his eyes crinkle. I took a sip of brandy. "I'll make you a deal, sir. I won't try to prevent blushing if you smile more."

He looked at me appraisingly and raised his snifter to mine. "That's easy to agree to." We clinked glasses and talked for a while longer, neither one of us in any hurry to wrap up the night. Finally, however, we were done with our brandies. Mr. Cullen helped me carry in the dishes and he loaded the dishwasher for me while I set up the coffee. We walked upstairs together and said goodnight to each other in front of my door. I turned to go in and he started down the hallway to his room.

"Miss Swan." I turned around. He was coming back toward me, a look on his face I hadn't seen before. I looked up at him as he came to stand right in front of me. "If I don't see you in the morning, have a good time this weekend."

"Thank you, Mr. Cullen. I hope you have a good weekend too."

He looked at my mouth and stepped even closer, the look on his face intensifying. Determination mixed with something predatory, that was it. He cupped my face and leaned down to me, saying in a low voice, "forgive me for this, but I have to know." His lips met mine, so lightly at first I barely felt them, just touching me with his mouth, not really kissing me. He brushed them back and forth over mine, then pulled gently on my bottom lip. My lips parted and he kissed me for real, pressing harder, moving his mouth over my bottom lip, sucking it lightly, then moving to my top lip, then both at once. My hands came up to his shoulders, holding onto him, returning his kiss, my mouth opening to his. I could taste brandy on his lips. His hands slipped down to my neck at the same moment his tongue entered my mouth and I stifled a small groan as he pulled me closer to him, the pressure of his mouth increasing, the sensation of his tongue stroking mine quickly going to my head.

All too soon he pulled away. He looked down at me, his thumbs caressing my throat. "Delicious, just as I thought." I felt his hands leave me and he straightened. "Thank you."

"You're welcome." I whispered automatically, having no idea what he was thanking me for.

"Remember to call me tomorrow when you arrive."

I nodded.

He looked me over one more time, a slight frown forming between his eyebrows, then headed toward his room.


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter 14

"Oh, he wants you, Bella, he wants you bad."

"Do you really think so?"

"Kissing you like that? Come on, what else could it mean?"

Alice and I were less then 20 minutes into our drive to LaPorte, and I'd already told her everything that had happened last night.

"I don't know. He's been getting more and more affectionate toward me, but that doesn't necessarily mean anything. Maybe he just wants someone to dote on. When he kissed me it wasn't passionate or amorous, just kind of gentle, like he was curious, or I don't know." I shook my head and rubbed my eyes.

Alice laughed. "I don't think I've ever seen you this discombobulated. It may have been gentle, but it seems to have done the trick." She looked over at me with a smile.

I put my head back on the headrest and closed my eyes, reliving the feel of Mr. Cullen's lips on mine, his fingers on my neck.

"Girl, the only question now is do you want him?"

"Yes." I hissed out, finally admitting out loud that I had the hots for my boss.

"I knew it."

"How?"

"You told me he was your type before even moving in with him. I figured that unless he turned out to be some kind of ogre, you'd end up crushing on him. He not an ogre, is he?"

"No. He's wonderful."

"Well then, I say go for it."

"Go for it? What, throw myself at him?"

"Of course not, you'd probably hurt yourself. No, I mean, let it happen. He wants you, you want him, you're alone together all day in that big house. And you in that accidentally-looks-amazing dress. It's just a matter of time." She tapped her fingers on the steering wheel, still thinking. "In fact, I wouldn't throw yourself at him at all. He's kind of a control freak, right?"

"No! Well, maybe a little."

"Then let him set the pace. You just go along with it."

"But what if he goes too slow?"

"You little harlot!" She laughed. "I'm getting to know the real Bella Swan this summer. She's very interesting."

"Well, you know what I mean. Now that I have these feelings for him, they're always there, you know? I can't just turn them off. What if he spends the whole weekend regretting kissing me?"

"He won't. Trust me, he's a man, and a lonely one at that. But if he does ..." she turned to look at me, giving my hair and clothes a once over. "When was the last time you got a hair cut?"

"I don't remember. Last fall?"

"Let's do some girly stuff this weekend. Haircuts, manicures, some shopping. I know that's not your idea of fun, but we could both use a little polishing up."

"Actually, that does sound like fun. We'll still do the museum, though, okay?"

"As long as we can still go out tonight."

"Deal."

"Deal."

We got to LaPorte around nine and checked into a hotel Alice had found online. While Alice was freshening up in the bathroom I gave Mr. Cullen a quick call to let him know we'd arrived safely. Our conversation was brief and businesslike and I was about to say goodbye when he asked me if I knew when I'd be getting home.

"I don't know yet, Mr. Cullen. Some time tomorrow night. Would you like me to call you before we leave?"

"Please."

"Okay."

"Goodbye, Miss Swan. Have fun."

"Will do. Goodbye, sir." I hung up just as Alice was coming back in the room.

"Sir?" She asked me with a raised eyebrow.

"He's a bit formal about how he likes to be addressed."

"Ah," was all she said but she gave me a little wink.

"What?"

"Just imagining how much fun you're going to have once you get him to unwind a little. You know, he's probably got a lot of pent up … energy."

"Now who's the harlot?" I laughed in mock outrage.

"So why were you talking to him already?"

"I promised to let him know when we arrived. He worries."

"That's actually kind of sweet."

"I know."

"Okay, let's head out." She picked up her purse from the bed.

"Just a second." I pulled my envelope out of my purse to transfer some bills to my wallet, intending to leave the rest here. Something was different. I pulled out the money and counted it. "Mr. Cullen gave me too much."

"What?"

"There's six hundred here instead of five."

"Maybe he made a mistake."

I shook my head. "He didn't. This is what I'm talking about, Alice. He does stuff like this all the time. How am I supposed to get him to take back the extra money?"

"You don't. You buy him something with it. So, ready to go?"

And with that innocent-sounding question, Alice launched Operation Do LaPorte, which meant a light day of breakfast, shopping, sightseeing, lunch, hair appointments, manicures, snacks, more shopping, then more shopping. Dinner. Sightseeing. The club. Dancing. Drinks. More drinks. More dancing.

I collapsed on the bed when we finally got back to the hotel at 3 am. Alice was trying to kill me, that had clearly been her plan all along. I mumbled as much to her and she laughed. "Yeah, you figured me out. You had fun, though, right?"

"There are worse ways to die, I suppose. But tomorrow we're doing things my way."

"Deal."

The museum specialized in regional art but had a surprising number of pieces in its international collection, a couple which I even recognized. Alice kept up a polite interest for as long as she could, but after a couple of hours, when I'd seen everything, I told her I was done as soon as I hit the gift shop. She perked up at that. I found a small print of one of the paintings I'd most admired and then a little abstract print caught my eye. It was perfect for Mr. Cullen. Alice had spotted a jewelry display and was looking at earrings while I paid.

"These are pretty. They'd go perfectly with your uniform." She pointed to a pair of sparkling midnight blue pendants. They were really pretty, and small enough to wear during the day.

"Are you going to get anything?" I asked her while I stalled, feeling like I'd already spent too much this weekend.

"I'll get a pair too if you get these. They're perfect for you."

"Okay, let's do it."

We paid for our earrings and exited the museum into the afternoon sunlight.

"Ah," Alice said, closing her eyes, "the air is so fresh here."

"I know, it's relaxing just to breathe it in."

"So is there anything else you want to do this afternoon?"

"Not really, I guess. Oh wait, is it okay if we go back down to the waterfront? I want to make another pass through the fish markets and see if anything looks good enough to bring back."

"Is your mind getting back to work already?"

If she'd only known how many times I'd caught myself thinking about Mr. Cullen this weekend. Did he like the chili? Was he heating up the pot pie according to the instructions I'd left? Did he regret kissing me? Did he miss me?

"You're the one who encouraged me to improve my cooking, and to spend the extra money Mr. Cullen gave me on him," I teased, giving her a nudge with my elbow. "I bought him a print already, and now I'll bring home some seafood."

"How's the cooking going?"

"Really well. He's loved everything I've served him, but even that doesn't seem like enough. Thursday he set out both breakfast and lunch for me, so he's finding ways to pay me back for that too."

"There must be something else you could do, something else he likes. Maybe you just have to get to know him better."

"He did tell me once that he likes to be obeyed. I could offer to become his little servant girl, kneel at his feet, that kind of thing." I'd said it without thinking.

"Ooo. Kinky." Alice laughed.

I didn't laugh back, lost in my thoughts.

"Are you serious?"

"No, of course not. Maybe. I don't know."

"Girl, you have got to be kidding me."

"It's just that I like making him happy. Sue me."

"No, sue him, remember? But I guess the sexual harassment suit is dead now that you're a willing harassee, so what else have we got to work with?"

We were taking our time strolling back down to the water, stopping to look in windows we'd missed yesterday.

"Let's see," I played along. "I could sue him for being too handsome."

"No damages."

"Too used to living alone? Sometimes he takes the last cup of coffee in the morning without offering to make more."

"That's terrible. You should really reconsider working there. I don't know how you stand it."

We laughed together and I gave her an impulsive hug. "Thanks, Alice."

"For what?"

"This weekend."

She hugged me back. "Any time, Bella.'

We were finally done with our weekend in LaPorte around six. I called Mr. Cullen to tell him we were leaving while Alice fiddled with getting all our shopping bags in the trunk.

"Hi, Mr. Cullen, it's me, Bella, I mean Miss Swan."

"Yes, Bella I mean Miss Swan, I recognized your number."

I could tell he was in a good mood.

"We're just leaving LaPorte now so I should be home by eight, barring any traffic problems."

"Very good. Should I save you some dinner?"

"No, but thanks. We just finished an early dinner at Grand's. You were right, it was delicious."

"I'm glad you liked it."

"Did you have a good weekend, sir?"

"In some respects. I ate very well, at least."

"That's good to hear." I couldn't help but smile.

"I'll see you soon, Miss Swan."

"See you soon, sir."

The drive back was uneventful and mostly quiet. We'd managed to wear ourselves out. We were only about twenty minutes outside of town when I asked, "So at first you didn't seem to like Mr. Cullen. You're okay with him now?

Alice looked over at me as she put together her answer.

"I think he's nice. He does seem to genuinely care about you. I was a little worried he had designs on you, but you obviously like him and seem happy working for him, so unless you stop returning my calls or start making excuses not to get together, I won't worry about him taking you captive."

"You don't have worry about that," I laughed. "I can always escape on my bike."

We pulled up to the house just after eight. Mr. Cullen came out to help me carry in my things. He looked as good as ever, and had a very pleased look on his face. I might have thought he was happy to see me. Alice and I sorted out our things, and I gave her a hug goodbye.

"Thanks for doing all the driving."

"No problem. Thanks for helping with gas."

"I"ll call you soon."

"Kay. Good night, Mr. Cullen!" She waved goodbye to us both.

"Good night, Miss Whitlock. Thank you for bringing Miss Swan back to me in one piece."

Alice gave him a funny look, got in her car and took off down the driveway.

"All right, Miss Swan, let's get you inside." He bent down to pick up my overnight bag and my many shopping bags. "It looks like your trip was a success."

"We had a great time. Alice made me go shopping, though. This - " I gestured to all the bags, "wasn't my idea."

"She forced you buy all this?"

"Well," I laughed. "It was more like blackmail. I had to go shopping with her in order to get her to the museum."

"Did you like it, the museum?"

"I loved it. I got you something there, by the way."

He stopped. By this time we'd reached the second floor landing.

"You didn't have to do that."

"I know. I just saw something I thought you'd like, and I had some extra money." I shot him a sideways glance and he smirked. "Come on, I'll show you."

We went up the rest of the stairs and Mr. Cullen dropped my bags on my bed. I found the bag from the gift shop and fished out the print I'd gotten him.

"Here. Do you like it?"

He turned it over in his hands. "I do. Thank you."

"You're welcome." I looked around my room. It was good to be back.

"You cut your hair."

"Just a little," I said with a smile, reaching up to run my fingers through the new layers.

"And what's this?" He took one of my hands in his, turned it palm down, and ran his thumb over my fingernails.

"That's something we call nail polish."

"My goodness. What the kids are doing these days. Should I be worried about any piercings or tattoos?

"Mr. Cullen, what sort of girl do you take me for?"

"A very nice one. One that I'm very happy to see again." He gave my hand a small squeeze and then turned to go. "I'll be in the living room watching TV if you care to join me after you've unpacked."

"Sure, that sounds good. Oh, would you mind putting something in the fridge on your way down? It's for tomorrow night's dinner." I dug out the package of seafood, which I was happy to see hadn't leaked on any of my new clothes.

"Ah, scallops from LaPorte." He scanned the label. "That's a nice treat. I should warn you, though, I barely made a dent in all the food you made for me."

"That's okay. I can freeze whatever's left and you can have it next weekend."

"Next weekend," he said, running his hand through his hair.

"Did you decide anything about me cooking on weekends?"

"Not yet, actually, but I will. Soon. See you downstairs."

"Okay."

I was surprised he was still thinking about the weekend cooking as he seemed to make decisions more quickly than that. I wondered why he was hesitating as I put my new things away. I left the earrings out on my dresser, planning to wear them tomorrow. I checked to make sure I had a clean uniform in my closet and then went downstairs to join Mr. Cullen in the living room.

He was on the couch and I sat down next to him, again keeping a respectful distance between us. PBS was on. I could feel a Sunday evening routine developing here, but I didn't mind. This was a nice way to end the week.

I rested my head back again the couch, kicked off my shoes and brought my legs up underneath me.

"Can I get you anything? A glass of wine? I was thinking of having one myself."

"That sounds great. Thank you."

He came back a few minutes later carrying two glasses, handed one to me and put his down on the coffee table, pulling it closer a few inches so that I could reach it too.

"You look a little tired."

"I am." I took a sip of wine and felt myself relaxing even more into the couch. "Alice and I were out dancing until three this morning."

"Did you have fun?"

"I did. Alice and I always have fun together, but she has way more energy than me when it comes to dancing and shopping."

"Are you glad to be home?" He asked me after a while. I was almost done with my wine and my eyes were starting to feel heavy.

"I am. Very."

"I missed you this weekend."

"You did?"

He nodded, his eyes still on the TV. "I know you've only been here for a week, but the house just felt empty to me for some reason. I couldn't quite put my finger on it."

He'd missed me. I felt a sudden surge of affection for him and looked up at his profile. He looked back down at me and took in how tired I was getting. "Come here," he said, lifting up his arm, and I scooted closer, resting my head on the side of his chest while he curled his arm across my shoulders. So warm. "I'll wake you up when this program ends." I closed my eyes and nodded.

"I missed you, too, Mr. Cullen."

His arm tightened around me and I felt him kiss the top of my head. He whispered something that sounded like "my girl" but I was too tired to ask him to repeat himself.

**A/N: I guess FFic was having the hiccups earlier today as I was emailed some lovely reviews that didn't appear online. I don't mind, I just wanted to let those reviewers know I did get them. Thank you all so much! - kts. Oh - and I have nothing against piercings or tattoos :)**


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter 15

Monday morning I slept in until 10. I lay in bed for a while enjoying the warmth of the sun coming in through the windows and wondering what to do with myself today. I didn't want to go out, but felt like I should do more than while away another morning reading in the library. Eventually I got up, used the bathroom, returned to my room and turned on my computer. My dad had answered my email with a brief note in all caps, which made me snort. I wrote him back, told him to quit yelling at me, and filled him on my weekend with Alice.

I went downstairs to get some coffee, realizing half way there that I was still in my pajamas. Was that okay? I was in cotton pants and a tank top. Modest enough, I decided. But Mr. Cullen wasn't in the kitchen so I quickly poured myself a cup and took it back up to my room, passing quietly by his closed office door.

I spent the rest of the morning online, checking to see if grades were posted yet, searching the summer class schedule for anything that looked interesting enough to audit, and researching what the requirements were for me to apply as a regular student in the fall. It didn't look like Noble was going to make it too difficult, but since I wasn't a citizen, my tuition was going to go up significantly. I did a quick calculation of how much I would earn over the summer and realized that even if I lived as frugally as possible, I would still need to apply for financial aid. I wasn't too worried about that, though, as I'd managed thus far to find a way to pay for college, and was confident that I could continue to do so.

Before I knew it, it was 11:30 and I was getting hungry. I took a quick shower, dried my hair, changed into my uniform and went downstairs.

Still no Mr. Cullen. I opened the fridge to look for something to make for lunch. I'd clearly made too much food on Friday as most of the chili and pot pie were still untouched. I transferred both of them to the freezer, where I spotted a package of frozen spinach. Mmm, that sounded good. I grabbed a couple eggs out of the bin in the fridge and checked the drawer that held meats and cheese. Yes, I thought triumphantly, I knew I'd seen some feta. One Greek omelet coming up. I searched the pantry for kalamata olives and scored again. At the last minute, I cracked three additional eggs into the bowl, figuring if Mr. Cullen showed up, he could have half the omelet, and if not, I could save it for tomorrow.

"Ah, Miss Swan, here you are. Did you sleep well last night?"

"I did, thank you kindly, sir." I smiled as I poured the eggs into the pan. It was good to see him. "I slept until 10. It felt decadent."

He laughed. "You look rested. I guess decadence becomes you."

"Maybe it does." My smile grew larger. "Would you like to share my omelet?"

"Oh no, I couldn't. I'll find something for myself." He went over to the fridge.

"It's okay. I made it big enough for two."

"That was very thoughtful of you, Miss Swan. In that case, I'd love some. Can I do anything to help?"

"You could start some toast." The eggs had set up and I scattered in the ingredients. He watched me work as he pulled out the bread.

"You found some olives, I see. I'm glad you're making yourself at home here."

"I told you I'd be making a mess. I haven't even gotten warmed up yet." I gave him another smile as I gently flipped over one side of the eggs. Perfect. I hated when the underside of omelets turned brown.

Soon we were at our usual seats at the island, eating in silence. I was hungrier than I thought and was focused on my lunch.

"I didn't hear you in the house this morning. Would it be imprudent of me to ask what you were doing?"

His manners were beginning to amuse me to no end. I also thought it was funny that he'd gone from demanding that he never see or hear me to being curious about my activities when he didn't. I laughed a little and said, "Of course not, Mr. Cullen. I spent the morning in my room online. I'm still waiting to get my grades and I've got some stuff I have to get organized for my application in the fall."

Did I imagine it or did his face fall a little? "I'd forgotten about that. When does the fall term start again?"

"September."

I saw his mind working and added. "In three months."

"Hmm." He took another bite of his omelet. "This is very good."

"Thanks."

He was still thinking about something. I was about to ask him jokingly if that gave him enough time to replace me when he changed the subject.

"So. Dusting today?"

"Yes, sir."

"You can come in and do my office. I've decided it's silly for you to do my office on Wednesdays. From now on, just come in each day and do whatever's on your list."

"Really?"

"Yes, really. I had that rule about not disturbing me mostly for Mrs. Whitlock's sake. She was a good housekeeper but she bothered me. I found myself inventing ways to keep away from her."

"What did she do that bothered you so much? She told me she never even saw you."

"It wasn't anything in particular. I guess I just didn't like her. You know how I am about certain things." He ran a hand through his hair. I was beginning to recognize that as a gesture he made when he was uncomfortable or nervous. I nodded, assuming he was referring to the way he liked to be served dinner.

"She didn't like it, she never did, I knew that. But after long, I started pushing her. Not physically, mind you, I just found myself getting more demanding with her. I was quite childish about it toward the end, that's probably why she quit." He looked over at me, a little abashed.

"Maybe subconsciously you were trying to get her to quit."

"Maybe." We'd finished eating and he gathered our plates. "I'm glad she did."

"You are?"

"Yes, because that brought you to me. You, my dear Miss Swan, don't bother me at all. Hence the end of the Wednesday office cleanings."

He took our dishes to the sink.

"So what will I do on Wednesdays from now on?"

"I don't suppose you'll let me give you the day off?" He had turned and was leaning back on the sink.

"Absolutely not. No way."

"That's exactly what I thought you'd say," he laughed. "I'll think of something, then. Thank you for lunch, Miss Swan. I'll see you later." He started to leave.

"Mr. Cullen, do you have a favorite scallop dish you'd like tonight?" I asked before he'd reached the door.

He turned back and came and stood in front of me, shaking his head a little to himself.

"Miss Swan, what am I going to do with you?" He reached up and tapped my nose. "One minute you're talking of leaving me and the next you're treating me like a king."

"Well, you are the king of the castle, aren't you, Mr. Cullen?"

"If I'm the king, what does that make you?" One of those smirks he always got when teasing me started to appear on his face.

"The king's housekeeper, of course."

"No, that won't do. You can be my princess."

"Princess? Me?" I scoffed. "Never."

"Never?"

"No. I've never felt like a princess."

"I may have to do something about that." He gave me one more smile and left, never having answered my question about the scallops.

The office door was open when I'd worked my way down to the second floor. I entered with my dusting gear and he smiled up at me from his computer, then hit a few keys on the keyboard, stood up and moved over to the windows to let me work. There wasn't that much to dust in Mr. Cullen's office, just some bookcases, his desk and credenza. I did his bookcases first, then the credenza. I turned to his desk and saw the print I'd bought him in LaPorte sitting in a frame. I couldn't help but smile to myself as I picked it up and wiped it free of invisible dust, then cleaned the rest of the desk and his computer screen. I ran my cloth lightly over his keyboard, trying not to press any keys. He still hadn't spoken to me, and with my back to him, I had no idea if he was looking out the window or watching me work.

When I was finished, I gathered my things and turned to let him know I was leaving. He had been watching me, leaning against the wall, his hands in his pockets.

"Miss Swan, are you doing the library next?"

"Yes, sir."

"Would you mind if I came with you and played the piano while you work?"

"Would I mind? Are you serious? You'd do that?"

"I realized the other day that I need to brush up, so if you don't mind a few missed notes, I'd be happy to practice while you work."

"That would be wonderful, Mr. Cullen."

He gestured for me lead the way to the library and proceeded to practice some of the most beautiful music I'd ever heard in my life. I think I was dusting but didn't have a clue if I was doing a good job or not as the music swirled around me. I finished the books and didn't want to interrupt him by starting the piano, so I started toward my chair. Then I got an idea and on impulse knelt on the floor near his bench. His eyebrows went up but he didn't stop playing, and we smiled at each other. I closed my eyes and leaned against the piano leg, letting the music wash over me. About ten minutes later he brought the piece to a thundering conclusion. I opened my eyes and looked up at him.

"What _was_ that?"

"Chopin."

"My god. I had no idea music like that even existed."

"You give me oysters, I give you Chopin."

"Oysters live in the ocean, but you can play Chopin." Good, I was now fully fluent in gibberish. I'll put that on my resume.

I heard him chuckle, but he didn't say anything else as he reached down a hand to help me to my feet.

"Mr. Cullen?"

"Yes, Miss Swan?"

"Thank you for playing for me," I said as I started to wipe down the piano.

"You're welcome, my dear."

At 5:30 I was in the kitchen putting the finishing touches on Mr. Cullen's first course and side dishes. The scallops were getting sauteed at the last minute so I pulled out a pan and put in some oil. I couldn't shake the feeling that I was forgetting something. I looked over all the ingredients for dinner, but everything seemed to be in order. What was it? I drummed my fingers on the counter. There was something I'd meant to do before dinner, but it wasn't food-related. What else was there? I tightened my apron and straightened my hair. Oh, the earrings! I ran upstairs and put them in. I rushed into the bathroom and put on some mascara, giving my appearance a final check. Not bad, Bella, I thought. The earrings were perfect.

I trotted back downstairs and quickly finished dinner. At six sharp, I entered the dining-room and placed Mr. Cullen's bowl before him.

"Good evening, Miss Swan," he said, raising his eyebrows approvingly at his stew. "What have we here?"

"Lentil stew, sir, with Spanish flavors. Would you like a martini to go with it?"

"Hmm. No, I'll have wine again." He looked up at me. "Did I hear you running on the stairs a few minutes ago?"

"I'm sorry, sir. I forgot something in my room at the last minute. It won't happen again." I'd completely forgotten to tiptoe past his office in my haste.

"Don't worry about it, Miss Swan. I never thought I'd see the day that I enjoyed hearing another person moving around in my house, but apparently that day has come. Now," he said, "Spanish, you say?"

"Yes, sir."

"And the rest of meal?"

"Spanish as well."

"I'm in the mood for something red. See if you can find a tempranillo."

"Tempranillo," I pronounced it back to him to make sure I had it right.

"Tempranillo," he confirmed. "And don't run, my dear."

I was back shortly. After pouring Mr. Cullen a glass of wine, I took my seat.

He took a taste of his stew and smiled as he swallowed. "Another success, Miss Swan."

I smiled brightly at his praise, which meant more to me tonight. Not having biked to town today, I'd had to pull dinner together with things I found in the pantry.

He brought his spoon up to my mouth to offer me a taste and his eyes rested on my ears. He reached his left hand up to finger one of my earrings.

"Very nice, Miss Swan. Are they new?"

"Yes, sir. I bought them in LaPorte to go with my uniform."

He put his spoon down beside his bowl and continued looking at me, his left hand still on my ear.

"Miss Swan, I want to apologize if I was too forward Friday night. I don't know quite what came over me. The oysters maybe." He smiled, still toying with my earring.

I smiled back at him and shook my head the tiniest bit, not wanting him to stop touching me. "There's nothing to apologize for, Mr. Cullen." His fingers began to lightly stroke my neck, the same fingers that had played such beautiful music earlier. I could feel my pulse start to pick up and wondered if he could feel it too.

He was still looking at me intently. He swept a thumb over my cheek as he noticed I'd put on mascara.

"I didn't think it was possible for you get any prettier, Miss Swan."

I didn't know what to say, so kept silent, but knew I was starting to blush.

He noticed it too, running his thumb over my cheek again. Then he withdrew his hand and turned back to his stew taking another spoonful. He handed me his wine glass and I took a sip. He offered me the last of the stew, this time cupping my jaw as he eased in his spoon. He'd grown silent, and I wondered what he was thinking. He looked a little wistful.

I rose to take his empty bowl to the kitchen, walking slowly, and came back with a plate of sauteed scallops and saffron rice. I put it down in front of him, refilled his wine glass and took my seat.

"This smells incredible." He said quietly, glancing up at me with a small smile.

"I hope you like it, sir."

He took a bite of scallop. "Mm." He kind of grunted while still chewing. He swallowed and added, "perfectly seared, not overcooked, just perfect, my dear, perfect."

I smiled and he brought one to my mouth with his fork, his left hand wrapping lightly around my neck. I took the scallop but had no idea how it tasted. The only thing my senses were aware of at that moment was the touch of his fingers delicately stroking my neck. I managed to chew and swallow, Mr. Cullen watching my mouth. He removed his hand again and offered me some wine, which I took gladly, hoping for a moment to clear my head.

I watched him try the rice. I'd seasoned it with saffron, paprika and cumin, hoping for a paella-esque result. He nodded as he swallowed. "I love saffron, Miss Swan. I think I'm going into sensory overload." He took a sip of wine and smiled at me.

I smiled, thinking I could certainly relate to that. He offered me some rice, holding his left hand under his fork so as not to spill. It had turned out well. I'd added some canned peas and was relieved they didn't taste dull, but instead added a certain sweetness.

"Would you like another scallop, my dear?"

"Yes, sir."

"Ask me nicely."

I raised my eyebrows at him. This was new. He gave me a teasing smirk, so I decided to play along.

"Mr. Cullen, may I please have another scallop?"

The corners of his mouth turned up and he picked one up off his plate with his right hand and brought to my mouth with his fingers. His thumb was in my mouth when I closed it, and I couldn't help but lick it as he pulled it out. Then he lifted his finger to my mouth and I licked it clean as well. He briefly closed his eyes.

I wondered if he was having the same reaction I was; I felt like I was about to spontaneously combust with desire.

If he was feeling the same thing, he had better self-control than I. His next action was merely to return to his dinner. He ate a couple more scallops and another scoop of rice before offering me more, not touching me this time. By the time he was almost finished, I realized that he'd fallen silent again.

As he took the last bite of rice, I said, "There's still dessert tonight, sir."

He glanced over at me and seemed to come out of his revery. "My dear Miss Swan, forgive me." He looked down at his empty plate, almost in surprise.

"Don't worry, sir, there's plenty left for lunch tomorrow." I smiled and rose to take his plate. He reached for my hand, turned it over and kissed my palm. "And you think I overpay you," he said quietly. I picked up his plate and gave him one more smile before heading to the kitchen. He looked like himself again, amused and content.

I returned with a bowl of lemon sorbet and one spoon. I put it down in front of him and asked if he'd like more wine or perhaps some port.

"More wine, my dear."

I filled his glass and took my seat.

He took a taste. "Did you make this?"

I nodded. "It's probably not as frozen as it should be. It might be a little soft, but hopefully it tastes okay."

He just shook his head and brought a spoonful to my mouth. My eyes widened as the sorbet slid down my throat. It was delicious, by far my favorite of the desserts I'd made.

"How on earth did you do this?"

"I had lemons left over from the cake I made last week, and everything else I found in your pantry, sir."

He took a couple more bites. "Add this to my favorites, Miss Swan."

"Yes, sir."

"Here," he said, moving the bowl in front of me. "You have the rest. You deserve it."

I picked up the spoon while he leaned back, reaching for his wine with his right hand and bringing his left back up to my face. He watched me eat, his left hand playing gently with my hair, my cheek, my neck, my earring. I closed my eyes and let myself enjoy his touch, allowing him to set the pace of what was happening between us. Alice had been right. It was inevitable.

**A/N: We're getting there, I promise. I'm also getting your reviews even though they're not showing up here (yet?) – I love reading them; you guys are funny, smart, perceptive, and most of all, encouraging. Thank you so much! - kts.**


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter 16

Mr. Cullen and I settled into a pleasant if somewhat too-slow-for-my-inner-hussy routine that week. Tuesday afternoon I biked out for groceries, vacuumed the house and made dinner. That night he again touched me with his left hand throughout the meal, this time lingering around the collar of my neckline as well.

Wednesday morning a truck pulled up the driveway and I answered the door to a huge delivery of flowers. Mr. Cullen came downstairs as I was signing for them and helped me carry them into the kitchen.

"I thought it would be nice to have to have some fresh bouquets in the house, so this will be your new Wednesday task, if you don't mind."

"Of course not, although they didn't teach us the art of flower arrangement at the finishing school I didn't go to."

He laughed. "I'm sure you'll do fine. You have a good eye for detail and I'm not particular."

"Where will I find vases?"

"Oh, I hadn't thought of that. There are probably some in the basement and I'll get a couple more in town this afternoon. Do you need anything from Arnolds?"

"No, I don't think so." Arnolds was the department store where I bought things like underwear, but I was not going ask Mr. Cullen to pick me up a few pairs of panties. Or maybe I should. That might speed things up a bit.

"All right. I'll be back around four today, probably. Feel free to put a bouquet in your room, Miss Swan."

I put one in his room too, and one on the dining-room table.

That night at six was he standing by the sideboard when I came in with his salad, rifling through one of the drawers.

"Good evening, Miss Swan."

"Good evening, Mr. Cullen."

"I knew I had some candles." He pulled two white pillars out of the drawer, found a box of matches, lit them and set them on the table, one of either side of the bouquet.

"There. Now your flowers are being done justice." He sat down and surveyed his salad. "This looks interesting."

"It's baby greens with citrus, sir. Tonight's dinner is kind of island themed."

"You never fail to surprise me. Would you recommend a red or white wine this evening?"

"I'd say a red, a light red."

"Hmm. Let's have another pinot noir tonight."

"Yes, sir." I went down to the wine cellar and returned a moment later with a bottle. I opened it, poured Mr. Cullen a glass, and took my seat.

"Very good." He said after taking the first bite. "Would you like some?"

"Yes, please, sir, may I have a bite of salad?"

He fed me and looked at me pensively while I ate.

"Miss Swan, I appreciate your indulging me this way, but if you'd like to have your own plate, I'd understand."

"I don't mind it, sir, in fact, I kind of like it."

"I'm afraid some nights I haven't given you enough."

"I have more when I clean the kitchen." I smiled at him reassuringly.

"Ah, good." He ran his hand lightly over my hair. "Well, then, my girl, let's have dinner."

The rest of the meal passed slowly, Mr. Cullen taking small bites and pausing between them. He said he liked the Jamaican-spiced pork medallions and fried plantains, but most of his attention was on me, making sure I was getting enough to eat. As he fed me a third plantain, he reached up and cupped my jaw. "And this is okay with you, as well?" His eyes moved from his hand to my eyes and back to his hand.

"Yes, Mr. Cullen, more than okay."

"You're sure?"

I nodded. "I like it very much. Very much, sir."

He smiled and ran his hand into my hair, then down to my neck, keeping it there while he continued eating, not letting go until we were finally finished.

He stretched out and leaned back in his chair. "Another superb meal, Miss Swan."

"Thank you, sir. Would you care for dessert tonight?"

"I feel like I've already gotten dessert," he smiled.

"I made something special, though. Will you at least try it?"

He sighed in mock reluctance. "I suppose, if I must." He gave me his hand and helped me to my feet I gathered up his plate and walked slowly to the kitchen, spooned up some coconut pudding and brought it back to the table.

"Can I get you anything else, Mr. Cullen?"

"No, thank you." He watched me sit back down, then turned his eyes to his dessert. "What have we here?"

"Coconut pudding with a grapefruit syrup, sir."

He took a taste and closed his eyes. "This is superb, Miss Swan. Here." He put his left hand around my neck and offered me a spoonful. I nodded appreciatively. It was really good.

"How did you make this?"

"It was easy once I got the coconut open, that was the only hard part. I'm surprised you didn't hear me banging it on the cutting board."

"I did, actually. I almost came down to see if you'd given up cooking and taken up carpentry." He smiled at me, his eyes crinkling in the corners, the candlelight sparkling in his eyes. He'd never looked more handsome to me and my apology caught in my throat, so I just shook my head slightly and smiled. "If you ever need help with anything, you can come and ask me." His thumb was lightly stroking my neck.

"I thought I wasn't supposed to interrupt you."

He smiled at me a bit wistfully, taking another spoonful of pudding. "How quickly I've changed all my rules since you've been here." He gave me another taste too, watching my mouth as I took his spoon, his expression growing serious.

Thursday morning when I got up to use the bathroom I found a small box on the counter next to the sink. Inside was a beautiful silver filigree necklace. I put it on and looked in the mirror. It was light and delicate, and small enough to fit just at the base of my throat. I couldn't accept it, though, and started to take it off when it occurred to me that this was the first thing Mr. Cullen had given me that wasn't work-related. This was a personal gift and if I refused it, he might take that as a rejection of him.

"You didn't have to get me this," I said, putting a finger on the necklace as I entered the kitchen.

"I know, but I can't have my princess buying her own jewelry. That's not how it's done."

I brought a cup of coffee to the island. "Mr. Cullen, I hope on top of everything else you've done for me, you're not going to start buying me gifts. I can't accept them."

"Yes, you can. You'll have to. I'm the king, remember?"

"Let me clarify. I'll accept this because I love it, so thank you, but no more. King or no king. I'll dethrone you if necessary."

"Will you be using the same maneuvers you employ against ticklers?"

"Wouldn't you like to know. Maybe I have a secret weapon."

He smirked. "Maybe you do. Now I'm tempted to buy you the matching bracelet just to see what kind of damage you're capable of doing."

"I'm serious, Mr. Cullen," I used the sternest tone of voice I could muster but was struggling not to grin.

He stopped teasing me. "Don't worry, Miss Swan, I just happened to see that yesterday at Arnold's and thought of you. I won't be hiding presents around the house for you to find while you clean." He looked like he thought that wasn't such a bad idea.

"You just happened to be in the jewelry department?"

He nodded innocently. "It's close to where they sell vases."

I accepted his explanation with a sideways look of skepticism, got up, grabbed the coffee pot and refilled our mugs. As I was sitting back down, Mr. Cullen ran his hand through his hair.

"Besides, Miss Swan, you do far more for me than I could ever repay with a piece of jewelry." The gesture he'd made with his hair told me he was referring to our dinners, not my housekeeping.

I looked down at my coffee. "Mr. Cullen, you haven't done anything that I didn't like."

He was silent for a long moment, looking down at his own cup. "I haven't felt so -" he paused, searching for the word, "content in my own house for years. Maybe ever. I didn't even want to leave yesterday." He looked up at me. "That necklace made me think of you when I saw it at Arnold's, and it suddenly occurred to me how much I've come to love having you here. That's all it was."

I swallowed some coffee, collecting my emotions for a second. It almost felt like he'd been about to say he loved me.

"You're getting a very special dinner tonight, Mr. Cullen." I finally answered.

I met Alice for lunch at our usual pizzeria. We chatted for a while and then she asked me how things were going with Mr. Cullen.

"Great." I told her about how he'd played the piano while I dusted on Monday and showed her the necklace he'd given me. "And, as you can see, he unchains me from the basement to let me meet you for lunch."

She laughed. "Such a nice guy. You're kind of falling for him, aren't you?"

"I think I am." I fiddled with a strand of my hair. I knew I was.

"And how goes the mutual game of seduction you two are playing?"

"Slowly. It's going very slowly. I'm going to be climbing the walls in frustration if he doesn't do something soon." I sighed, wondering if it would be possible to get through the summer on nothing but his light caresses at dinner. "Maybe he's holding back because I'm his employee, or maybe he thinks he's too old for me. Or that I'm too young for him. I don't know." I shook my head. "I can't figure it out. It's too hard."

"You hope it's going to be hard."

I burst out laughing so loudly several other diners turned to look at me and I had to drink some water to compose myself.

"Alice, you are too much sometimes. Too much."

I biked to Southbay's after lunch. It was a beautiful warm June day. I thought I'd grill again. Maybe something simple, like ribs? I pictured Mr. Cullen eating ribs and realized he'd need both of his hands. Scratch that idea. I wanted his left hand free. I was shameless like that. Sue me.

Mike greeted me at the meat counter and we looked over the day's selections together. I kept the new one-hand-only requirement to myself while I passed on his suggestions that would either require two hands to eat or his left hand to hold a knife. Finally I decided on the fresh tuna. I was thinking Mexican food tonight, something about the warm weather inspired me. I put a quick menu together in my head, added the rest of the ingredients I needed, checked out, and on impulse, biked over to the liquor store down the street, and bought a bottle of tequila with my own money. Once I'd committed to offering Mr. Cullen margaritas, I quickly went back to Southbay's and got some lime-aid.

I got back to the house around two. By the time I'd finished my afternoon chores and entered the kitchen it was close to four. I had a lot to do in the next two hours, so I grabbed my apron, turned on the radio and got to work.

"Good evening, Mr. Cullen," I smiled as I entered the dining-room at six on the dot. He gave me a smile in return. Yes, he was a fine, fine looking man, especially when he smiled.

"Good evening, Miss Swan. What's this?" He asked as I placed a bowl in front of him.

"Corn chowder, sir."

"It smells delicious."

"Thank you. I fixed Mexican food tonight, so may I get you a margarita? Or a beer perhaps?"

"I'd love a margarita, haven't had one since I don't remember when, but I don't have any tequila."

"Yes, you do, sir."

He looked up at me and raised his eyebrows, realizing that I must have bought some. "In that case, I'd love one. Leave slowly but hurry back."

"Yes, sir." I smiled back at him.

I came back with his drink a minute later. I like my margaritas simple – on the rocks with lime-aid instead of mix, which is too sweet for my taste, and I'd stuck with my usual recipe tonight, hoping he'd like it too. I put it down next to his bowl and took my seat.

He took a sip of his drink. I watched his tongue lick the salt off the rim. He nodded and handed it to me.

"Very nice, Miss Swan. Not too sweet."

"Thank you, sir." I took a sip and gave it back to him.

He took up his spoon and tried the chowder.

"Mmm, this is delicious. How you spoil me." He reached his hand up into my hair, his fingers playing lightly with the strands.

"Would you like some?"

"Please, sir, may I have a taste?" I'd been working on asking him nicely and was rewarded when the corners of his eyes crinkled.

"Of course you may, my dear." He cupped the underside of my jaw while giving me a spoonful. I licked my lips. It had turned out well.

When we were done with the chowder, I rose and took his plate to the kitchen, returning with his dinner moments later. "May I make you another margarita, sir?"

"Yes you may, Miss Swan." I left slowly, returning quickly.

"Oh, this is good," he said as he began slowly eating. I'd grilled the tuna, topped it with fresh salsa, added a side of grilled peppers and some black beans with chipotles. Thank you, internet. I was getting good enough now at reading his face while he ate that I knew he really liked it.

"Another to add to my favorites, my dear."

"Yes, sir."

"All of it. What would you like to try first?"

"May I please have a bite of tuna, Mr. Cullen?"

"Of course, my dear girl."

As he ate, his hand had lingered at the collar of my dress, toying lightly with my new necklace. When he fed me a bite of tuna off his fork, I felt his fingers slip under my collar, stroking lightly across the top of my shoulder. He fed me a piece of grilled pepper with his right hand while his other hand played across the top of my back. He gave me a forkful of beans, pulling his hand out of my dress, only to wrap it gently around my throat. I felt his long thumb dip down to my collarbone and then slide under the front of my dress and skim across the top of my chest. He was watching me carefully as he moved, probably worried that he was going too far. I kept my eyes on his, trying to control my breathing. In the silence of the room, I felt like I was panting. Couldn't he see what he doing to me?

We finally finished dinner and he pushed the plate aside. His left hand had returned to the side of my neck, where he was lightly stroking me with his thumb. I somehow managed to pull myself together enough to ask if I could get up and get his dessert.

"Ah, yes, by all means."

I started to reach for the table, but he held out his hand to help me up. My legs were a little shaky, and I think he noticed, a quick look of concern passing over his face. I gave his hand a light squeeze, and said I'd be right back. When I returned, he'd pushed his chair back a bit from the table to stretch out, his long legs crossed in front of him. I placed a small bowl of grilled mango and a spoon in front of him.

"What is this, Miss Swan?"

"Grilled mango, sir, with tequila and a touch of saffron."

He looked at me with his eyebrow raised. "That sounds like an odd combination."

"It probably is. I found a recipe and added the saffron at the last minute because you said you liked it so much."

"My girl," he said, taking a bite. "My girl, you've created a masterpiece. Here." He raised a spoonful to me and I took it eagerly, anxious to see how it had turned out. Delicious. The sweetness of the mango had mellowed into a carmelized flavor on the grill, the tequila gave it a bit of bite, and the saffron brought in something earthy and exotic. Maybe not entirely Mexican, but delicious just the same.

"It's delicious, sir, if I do say so myself."

"Oh, you may. Apart from the oysters, this is the best thing I've ever eaten. More?"

"Yes, please, sir."

He spooned some into my mouth. "Please tell me there's extra to eat tomorrow."

"A little. I only bought one mango. But I can make it again."

"Do you promise, my perfect girl?"

His words went straight to my core and I involuntarily gasped and bit my lip. I felt like I might cry or laugh or both, like my body was completely out of my control. He looked at me, his face growing serious. He eased my lip out from under my teeth and rubbed it lightly, then cupped my neck. I calmed under his touch and whispered, "Yes, sir, I promise."

"Come here." He said in a low voice. He leaned toward me, pulling me closer, and kissed me gently. I felt him start to pull away and I pushed myself closer to him, putting a hand on his leg under the table for leverage, not wanting him to stop. I never wanted him to stop. I kissed him harder, parting my lips. I felt him open his and when our tongues met, a powerful shiver ran through me. He must have felt something too, as he let out a quiet groan and tightened his hold on the back of my head. His mouth tasted like the mango I'd just served him, only better. So much better. I could have kissed him like this forever. It was perfect, not too hard, not too soft, like he knew exactly how much he could take from me and how much I could give.

He pulled away from me and looked over my face carefully. I must have a looked a mess at this point. I'd given up trying to control my breathing, and could tell I was flushed. He seemed to like what he saw, however, as he suddenly pulled me to him again, both of his hands in my hair, this time hard enough that I could sense the strength he was using to hold onto his control. He kissed me again, much harder, his tongue stroking mine with so much fervor I lost all my senses to only the feel of his mouth on mine.

Suddenly he let go of me. He stood, leaned forward on the table, and said, "Good night, Miss Swan. I'm sorry to leave abruptly but if I don't go now, I'm afraid I may take advantage of you." He turned and left as quickly as he'd let go of me.

I collapsed onto my chair, my arms swinging at my sides, my head back. I was a completely useless puddle of want.

I barely slept that night, my thoughts ping-ponging back and forth between luxuriously reliving the thrill of his kisses, and frantically worrying that Mr. Cullen hated himself for again giving into the temptation to kiss me. Why was he struggling so much with himself over this? I knew what I wanted, why did he seem so conflicted about what he so clearly wanted? His final words echoed in my mind, and I wondered how he could feel he was taking advantage of me when I would have given myself to him right there in the dining room if he'd just kept kissing me. Oh, he kissed so well. I wanted more of his kisses, more of him, more of everything.

I went down to breakfast the next morning with more than a little trepidation. Mr. Cullen was at the island, as usual.

"Good morning, Mr. Cullen."

"Miss Swan."

He continued looking down at his newspaper as I sat across from him with my coffee.

"Did you sleep well?"

"Not particularly."

"Nor did I." He took a sip of coffee. "Do I need to apologize for last night?" He finally looked up at me.

Oh, Mr. Cullen, please stop worrying about me.

"I didn't stop you, did I?"

"No."

"Then there's nothing to apologize for." Except for leaving too soon. "I mean it, Mr. Cullen. I liked it."

"I liked it, too. It's just that -"

Was he about to tell me the problem? "It's just that what?" I prompted him to continue.

"It's just that you're so young. I feel like a lecherous old man, some of the thoughts I have about you."

I took a moment to absorb what he'd said. I'd been right, it was the age difference.

"Mr. Cullen, I'm younger than you, yes, but I'm not a child. I'm old enough to know myself fairly well and I know what I like. I like it when you touch me. I like it when you kiss me. I like it a lot."

He spun his coffee cup around in circles, his eyes on the counter. He ran his hand through his hair and looked up at me. "I know you're technically an adult, but just barely. You still have a lot of choices ahead of you, you just don't know it yet." He paused and looked back down into his coffee. "When I was twenty-one I thought I was going to be an artist, can you imagine that?"

"Easily." It was true. He had more original paintings throughout the house than I'd ever seen outside of a museum. He obviously loved art. And the way he could play the piano? Don't get me started.

"I was almost done with art school when my parents died. I quit and floated around for a long time, made a lot of mistakes, before finally ending up here. Here -" he gestured to the kitchen, meaning the whole house, his whole life - "where I've never had a truly happy day until you showed up. I don't want to drag you into my dismal, lonely life, but I don't want to let you go either. Our dinners together have been some of the best moments of my life, but then I look at you, you're so young, you don't know what you're doing ..." He petered out, visibly torn, his hands running through his hair.

I got up and walked around the island to stand beside him. I took his beautiful, pained face in my hands and turned it up to me.

"I make you happy. You make me happy." I leaned down and pressed my forehead to his. "This is good. This is what people want. This is why good people get up in the morning, to make someone else happy."

"I don't want you to regret anything about this when you're my age."

"How could I? These have been some of the best moments of my life, too."

He scanned my face and recognized my sincerity. "Bella," he said under his breath, pulling me in to him, "Bella."

He held me for a long time, his arms around my waist and his head on my shoulder. I wrapped one of my arms around his back, the other I lifted into his hair. So soft. I tried to process the fact that he'd finally used my first name. Does this mean I call him Edward from now on? I couldn't really imagine doing so. He was Mr. Cullen to me, Mr. soft-haired, long-fingered Cullen.

"You can stop me," he said quietly. "You can stop me at any time."

"I know."

He looked up at me and searched my eyes for anything resembling hesitation or reluctance. I smiled down at him, and cupped his face, running my fingers over his freshly shaved jaw.

"But I'm not going to stop you, Mr. Cullen." There, it was out in the open. I was his if he wanted me.

"You're not?"

I shook my head. "No."

He gave me another squeeze and then released me, his arms slipping briefly over my hips.

"Do you think I'm terribly odd, Miss Swan?"

Ah, back to formalities. "No, not at all. I think you're pretty wonderful." That had come out before I could stop myself, and I started to blush, but I kept my eyes on his and added, "And if you are odd, then I guess I am, too."

He looked at me so intently, searching for something in my eyes, which I guess he found as he half-smiled and sighed. I gave him another minute to think about what I'd said and went to the toaster, starting enough for both of us. We ate in silence, but after he put our plates in the sink, he turned and crossed his arms, leaning back on the counter.

"One more thing, Miss Swan, and then I'll let you go for the day."

"What is it, sir?"

"It's important to me that you believe I wasn't planning for this to happen between us. I was being honest with you when I asked you to move in. I liked you, but I swear I wasn't scheming to get you to, you know -."

'I believe you. You never gave me that feeling or I wouldn't have said yes to moving in."

He came over and tousled my hair, then bent down and kissed the top of my head. "Bella," he murmured in to my hair, "you may be the best thing that's ever happened to me."

**A/N: Sorry this is so late. RL got in the way today; that and the fact that this is a chapter on which I really could have used the help of a beta. I was going in one direction for a long time – which a lot of you sensed – but then changed my mind and went a different way, so I had to do some rewriting. On that note, one of the first reviewers of the last chapter commented on Bella not getting a plate at dinner and I smacked my face in embarrassment – I'd gotten so used to the idea of him feeding her that it didn't even occur to me how weird that must have seemed. I tried to fix that in this chapter. A couple of reviewers said the 'my dears' were bugging them so I took most of them out and agree that their conversations sound more normal now. So please, don't hesitate to tell me if something bothers you – one of the main reasons I decided to take the plunge and post this was to get critical feedback.**

**Having said all that, I hope this longer chapter makes up for my delay in posting.**


	17. Chapter 17

Chapter 17

The relief I felt that Mr. Cullen hadn't changed his mind about our dinners was nothing compared to the happiness that had surged through me at the words he'd said into my hair. The thought that I was so crucial to someone else's happiness, that someone being specifically Mr. Cullen, buoyed my spirits more than anything I'd ever experienced.

I was still floating as I biked into town, giving no thought to what to make for dinner that night. All I was thinking about was how important I was to him, and how important that made me feel. I'd do anything for him, anything to make him happy. If it meant letting him feed me during dinner, I'd do it. If it meant continuing to develop our relationship at a snail's pace, so be it. I was so distracted with thoughts of Mr. Cullen that I didn't see the rock in the road until a split second before my front tire clipped it, jerking the handlebars out of my hands and sending me sprawling to the ground.

Luckily, I wasn't going that fast and I caught myself on my hands and one of my knees, my bike absorbing most of my weight. I got up and surveyed the damage. I'd broken the skin on my knee, but my hands were only a little scraped and my bike was fine, so I brushed myself off and got back on, more embarrassed than injured.

By the time I arrived at Southbay's I'd gotten my head back together and was focused on dinner. I didn't need to make a big meal even though it was Friday, because we still had tons of chili and pot pie in the freezer. I'd have a lot of time to cook this afternoon, though, as doing the bathrooms was one of the quickest chores. I locked my bike, grabbed a basket and headed toward the meat counter, debating a couple of dishes.

An hour later I was back home. I put the groceries away and went upstairs to shower. The hot water stung the scrapes on my hands and knee and I inspected them more closely. My hands were fine but my knee could use a band-aid. I towel-dried, put on my robe, and started rummaging around the bathroom. Nothing, but I knew that already, having found the vanity empty when I moved in my toiletries. I wondered if I could interrupt Mr. Cullen to ask him where he kept first aid stuff. He'd said that I could if I ever needed help with anything, but I didn't know if this situation qualified. I decided to err on the side of caution and wait until lunch. Maybe I'd see him then and could ask him without interrupting him.

I went back to my room and put on some shorts and a tank top, picked up my book and went down to the kitchen. I'd noticed some lawn furniture folded up in the corner of the patio near the barbecue and decided to help myself to it. There was a chaise that looked in decent shape, so I cleaned it off with a cloth from the kitchen, and pulled it out into the sun.

I read for a while, but the warmth soon combined with my lack of sleep and I put my book down on the grass, closed my eyes, and let myself drift. I don't know how long I'd been laying there, but eventually I heard a familiar throat-clearing. Without opening my eyes, I asked, "Yes, Mr. Cullen?"

"I'm sorry to wake you, but you've been out here for over an hour and I don't want you to burn."

"I'm not asleep. Just resting. I don't nap, remember?"

"You do a good impression of a napper."

"Thank you." I stretched and opened my eyes. Mr. Cullen was standing right above me, his hands in his pockets, his eyes on my legs.

"What happened to your knee?"

"I fell off my bike on the way to town." I pulled my knee up to examine it again. "I was wondering if you had any band-aids."

"I'll be right back."

He was gone less than a minute, returning with a box and a small tube. "May I?" He gestured to the chaise and I scooted over as far as I could, making room for him to perch next to my bent leg. He opened the tube and squirted a little antibiotic cream on his finger, rubbed it lightly over the scrape and gently affixed a band-aid, his face serious.

"Thank you, Dr. Cullen." I smiled up at him.

He smiled back, his hand running down my shin and closing over my ankle. "How did you manage to fall off your bike?"

"I wasn't paying attention and hit a rock. I landed very gracefully, though."

"Did you get hurt anywhere else?"

"Just my hands a little." I showed him my palms. He took one and kissed it, then did the same to the other.

"All better." He was still smiling, but had a look of concern on his face.

"Don't forget my knee."

He reached down and kissed the band-aid he'd just put on.

"You should have asked me for a band-aid as soon as you got home, Miss Swan."

"I didn't want to interrupt you. A scraped knee is hardly an emergency."

"Anything involving you getting hurt is an emergency. Be more careful from now on, my dear girl."

I smiled, nodded, and lay back again, closing my eyes. "I will, sir."

He was quiet for a moment. "The sun does feel good," he finally said.

I sighed contentedly. "It does, but you're right, I should probably come in." I made no movement to get up.

"So what do you think about when you're not napping?"

"Very important things."

"Such as?"

"For one thing, what to make for dinner."

"That is very important."

"I know."

"What else?"

"I might have been thinking about you a little."

"Me?"

"I think it was you. He was very tall, and had a tin of cocoa in one hand. He kept asking me to make him a dessert, so it must have been you."

I heard him laugh. "You were having a nightmare, my dear non-napping Miss Swan."

"And then he started chasing me around the dining-room table, until I let him catch me."

I could feel him shift his weight toward me. I kept my eyes closed but I was smiling.

"You let him catch you?"

I nodded. "He was so old, he'd gotten out of breath. I felt sorry for him."

I felt his hand leave my ankle and come to my waist. "That's very kind of you to take pity on an old man."

"That's what I thought, but it turned out to be a trap."

"A trap, Miss Swan?" His voice was closer.

"He was only pretending to be old. Once he'd caught me, he lifted me up like I weighed nothing and started to kiss me."

"Like this?" I felt his lips hover over mine, then lightly press down.

"No. He kissed me harder than that."

"Hmm. He doesn't sound like much of gentleman." I felt his lips move down my face to my throat.

"Oh no, he was. After he put me down, he fed me some scallops."

"Were they good?" He'd moved to the other side of my throat and was kissing me softly with his mouth open, tasting me.

"They were delicious." I whispered as I put my hand on the back of his neck.

"You are delicious." He murmured back, coming back up to kiss my lips lightly again. "You taste like Miss Swan dipped in sunlight, with a touch of -" he kissed me lightly again - "silly."

I opened my eyes. He was inches away and I'd never seen him look so carefree and relaxed. I smiled up at him and smoothed his hair off his forehead. He took his hand off my waist and reached up to run a finger over my bottom lip. "Add yourself to my list of favorites, will you?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good girl. Now let's get some lunch."

After we were done eating, I went upstairs to change into my dress. I crossed the hall to the bathroom to put on my necklace and took a moment to survey myself. I'd stayed out in the sun this morning long enough to get a bit of a glow without burning. The dark circles were finally gone from under my eyes and my new haircut was much more flattering than my old pony tail. I could see more of my body in this mirror than the one in the powder room, so I turned to the side and looked at myself in my dress. I still couldn't get a good view of my behind but even from the side, I could see how it flattered my waist and hips. I looked like a completely different person than the student I'd been just a few weeks ago. Still myself, but much improved.

After making short work of the bathrooms and changing Mr. Cullen's bedding, I headed to the kitchen for the rest of the afternoon, bringing my laptop with me. I was making four dishes I'd never made before, two that I'd never even tasted, and was going to need my computer to help me out as I went.

I put on my apron, turned on the radio, and got to work, keeping an eye on the clock. I had just started the risotto around 5:15 when I heard the sliding door open.

"Mr. Cullen, you're making it awfully hard to surprise you." I said, without turning around. The strawberry tart was in the fridge, the duck was in the oven, and the cream of morel soup was covered on a back burner, but he could easily see the ingredients for a spring vegetable risotto on the counter next to me.

"Miss Swan, you make it hard to stay away when everything smells so good." He came and stood right behind me, resting his hands on my waist for a moment before slowly untying and retying my apron.

"I seem to recall you once telling me you didn't want to see me or hear me, yet here you are again."

He chuckled a little, moving to lean back against the counter.

"I think I've spent more time with you in the last four weeks than I did with Mrs. Whitlock in four years."

"Has it only been four weeks? It seems longer."

"In a good way, I hope."

"Of course. I mean that I'm already used to your routines and I feel at home."

"That's good."

"It is."

"Do you need help with anything?"

"Really?" I looked up at him in surprise.

"Yes, really, my dear. I didn't come down just to snoop. It occurred to me that your hands might be sore." He took the wooden spoon out of my fingers and started stirring the risotto. "I can do this for you."

"Thank you, Mr. Cullen, that's very kind of you." My palms were actually a little sore after a full afternoon of cooking and 45 minutes of stirring rice wasn't going to help them feel any better.

"So I just stir?" He moved to take my position in front of the stove, and I went around to his left to add ingredients.

"That's what the recipe says. I've never made risotto before, but you're supposed to stir the rice as you gradually add the cooking liquid. I guess it makes the rice creamier."

"So that's how they do it. Good risotto is creamier than regular rice." He kept stirring while I slowly added some white wine, then some vegetable broth. I watched his hand grip the spoon, the muscles in his forearm flexing.

"Why are you staring at my hands?"

"I'm not!"

"Yes, you were. Am I doing this wrong?"

"No, that's perfect. Okay, I was admiring your fingers."

"My fingers."

"Yes."

"You are weird."

"I've already told you that. Several times. Pay attention."

He laughed and wiggled his fingers. "You pay attention. You're the one easily distracted by fingers, not me."

"Again, Mr. Cullen, I clearly said 'admiring' not 'being distracted by.' Honestly."

"I think you're the first person who's ever mentioned my fingers since my mother. She made me take piano lessons because she said I had the fingers for it." He was looking down into the pot of rice.

"I'm glad she did. She was right."

He gave me a bit of a sad smile.

"What?"

"I was just remembering how much trouble I used to give her about practicing."

"I'm sure she didn't mind." I added some more broth.

"No, probably not." He sniffed the air. "What smells so good?"

I looked at the timer and said, "Your main course is almost done. You're going to find out what it is in about five minutes, unless you close your eyes when I pull it out of the oven."

"What to do, what to do," he grimaced.

I laughed. "There are two other dishes that will still surprise you tonight, if that factors into your decision."

He smiled down at me. "All right. I'll go with fifty percent surprise this evening."

A few minutes later he moved aside and I reached into the oven for the duck. It had turned a lovely deep brown, the juices sizzling on the bottom of the roasting pan. It looked pretty good, if I said so myself.

"Is that duck?"

"Yes, sir." I moved it to a cutting board and covered it with foil to let it rest, then skimmed off as much fat from the pan as I could, added a little white wine and grated orange zest, and reduced the juices on the burner next to the rice while Mr. Cullen continued to stir and add the broth himself. He watched me work until I had the glaze at the consistency I wanted, then I poured it into a small gravy boat and put the pan in the sink.

"Okay," I said, turning back around. "How's the risotto coming along?" I stood next to him to check. He lifted the spoon up for me to take a quick taste. "I think it's almost done." I scooped in the chopped asparagus and fresh peas and poured in one more addition of broth. He stirred them in and as I added the grated Parmesan cheese and some salt and pepper. "This can probably sit on low now while I set the table."

"Would you like me to carve the duck?"

"Sure, that would be great. I'm not a very good carver."

He chuckled. "After seeing you at work for the first time, I refuse to believe there's anything you don't do well, my dear."

"I'll be right back." I smiled to him as I went and set his place, lighting the candles again and opening the curtains to let in some evening light. "Ready when you are, Mr. Cullen," I said, returning to the kitchen. He'd finished carving and was washing his hands at the sink. He looked over his shoulder at me and smiled. I handed him a towel to dry his hands and he leaned back against the sink, crossing his long legs and wiping his hands slowly, looking at me with an expression of fondness mixed with something I couldn't quite interpret.

He put the towel down on the counter and pushed himself off, coming up to me and cupping my face. His expression unchanged, he looked down at me a moment before bending down and kissing my forehead. "Give me five minutes before you come in, Miss Swan." On his way out, he grabbed the wine opener out of the drawer.

Five minutes later, I brought Mr. Cullen his soup. He was standing between our chairs, pouring a glass of wine. I put his soup down and he pulled my chair out with a quiet "ladies first." I smiled at him as I sat and got comfortable. He took his seat and took a sniff of his soup. "What is this, Miss Swan?"

"It's a cream and mushroom soup, sir, with morels."

"Morels?"

"They're one of my favorite mushrooms, sir. I hope you like it."

He took a taste. "This is wonderful. Amazing. Here." He lowered his spoon to me. It was good, the flavor of the mushrooms really coming through, only lightly mellowed by the cream.

"This is one of my favorite wines, my dear, a cote-du-rhone. Tell me what you think." He handed me his glass and I took a sip.

"Very nice, sir. It should go well with the duck, but why didn't you ask me to get it for you?"

"I didn't realize until this evening just how much work you go to fixing me these exquisite meals. I don't think I need to send you running off to the wine cellar any longer. You should be resting." He smiled at me and ran his hand over my hair, cupping my cheek. "Would you like some more soup?"

"Please, sir, may I please have some more soup?"

He fed me, his eyes lingering on my face.

"You got some sun today."

"I didn't burn, though. Thank you for getting me back inside when you did."

The candlelight flickered in his eyes. "I was watching you sunbathe from upstairs."

"You were, sir?"

"Yes. I saw you from the landing. You looked so peaceful, so content."

I didn't know what to say to that, so I stayed silent. He returned to his soup.

"I'm not getting much work done with you in my house, Miss Swan."

"I'm sorry, sir."

"Don't be. I've often worked too much just because I had nothing else to do. Now I have a beautiful young woman to keep track of."

I blushed. He smiled at me.

He took another spoonful of soup. "Another to add my favorites, my dear. I hope you make this regularly.'

"I'm glad you liked it, sir. Fresh morels are only available in the spring, though. I was so happy to find some at Southbay's today."

"Only in the spring," he seemed to say to himself, his eyes on his bowl. "And we don't know where you'll be next spring, do we?"

"Here, hopefully. I mean, at Noble."

He nodded, his face serious, his spoon moving in lazy circles through last of the soup. Then he smiled at me. "Yes, hopefully. Would you like the last bite?"

I smiled and shook my head. "No thank you, sir, there's plenty more for me later."

He finished the soup and pushed his bowl to the side.

"May I please get up and get your dinner for you?"

"You may, thank you." He reached for my hand to help me up.

I took his bowl to the kitchen and returned shortly with his plate of duck and risotto, and the serving dish of glaze. Before I sat back down, I topped off his wine glass.

I watched him while he ate with relish. He declared the duck to be as good as anything he'd ever eaten, but refused to take any credit for the risotto, which I thought was delicious. "All I did was stir. That doesn't come anywhere near to what you do." He looked at me fondly. I didn't realize until we were almost done that he wasn't touching me as much as he had the previous two nights. He was as affectionate and full of praise as always, but apart from a few strokes to my hair and cheek, he was keeping his hands to himself tonight.

We finished dinner and I asked if I could get his dessert.

"Yes, my dear, you may." He reached down to help me up. "Be careful near the refrigerator, though. You've already been injured once today."

"Oh, I forgot all about that." I laughed, and without thinking I reached down and pulled my skirt up to check my knee. The scrape hadn't bled through the band-aid, so I dropped my skirt and looked down at Mr. Cullen just as he was turning his eyes from my legs back to the table in front of him, that same predatory expression as he'd had last Friday night on his face.

"I'll be right back, sir."

He nodded.

I took his plate into the kitchen, thoroughly confused. He wanted me, I knew he did, but he was still holding himself back, even after our conversation this morning. Why? I cut out a piece of strawberry tart and drizzled it with some crème fraiche. I was afraid to throw myself at him, even though I wanted to, because I suspected that Alice was right that he needed to be in control of this, but I was even more afraid that for some unknown reason he'd decided I wasn't to be seduced, that he'd never cross that line with me. What else could I possibly do to let him know it was okay?

I brought him his tart, putting it down in front of him, asking him if he'd like more wine or a nightcap.

"Strawberries. Hmm. I'll have a cognac, please."

"Yes, sir." I went to the liquor cabinet, poured a finger of cognac into a low-ball glass and brought it back to him. Before I sat down, I impulsively kissed the top of his head. He turned to watch me, his face looking so conflicted. When I was seated, he reached down for one of my hands and brought it over to rest on his thigh, his fingers interlaced with mine, holding me tightly to him. He sighed and took a bite of tart, offering me the next. He sipped his cognac and gave me the glass. I told him that I liked the flavors together; he smiled back but didn't answer, just held my hand tighter, his fingers stroking mine.

We proceeded to eat the tart and drink the cognac, but for once the focus in the room wasn't on the meal, but on our hands, Mr. Cullen alternating between caressing me gently and gripping me firmly. I tried my best to understand what he was trying to convey, and almost asked him several times, but something about the set of his jaw and the slight frown between his eyebrows told me to give him more time to work out whatever was troubling him. When we were finished, I was no closer to understanding than when we'd begun. He stood and helped me up, bending down to kiss my cheek, and left without a word.

**A/N: You guys are AWESOME. Thank you all so much for your support, your suggestions, and yes even your criticisms; I appreciate them all. I have to laugh when anyone comments that they want lemons - I think 'she already made him a cake and sorbet, how many lemons do you want from me?'**

**You've also had the patience of saints to keep with the story for this long. I promise this is the last time he walks away from her. **

**Oh, and to make up for how late I posted yesterday, this chapter's going up a little early - hope you liked it. kts.**


	18. Chapter 18

Chapter 18

Saturday morning Mr. Cullen was already at the island when I came down for coffee. We exchanged good mornings and I started making some toast.

"What are your plans for today, Miss Swan?"

"I don't know. Nothing, I guess. Alice is out of town with her family, so apart from biking into town at some point, I'll probably just putter around here."

"What do you need in town?"

"Well, we never decided how we're going to do weekend dinners, but it's going to be way too hot for the things in the freezer, and I need more salad ingredients."

"Yes, about that." He looked up at me. "How about this on weekends. I'll let you do one night as long as it's something easy, something you'd make for yourself, and you let me take care of the other night."

"That sounds fair, but can you really just have a salad for dinner?"

"I think I'll survive. The question is will you survive the nights I'm in charge." His telltale smirk made an appearance.

"As long as you don't try to sneak any meat into my meals, I'll be fine."

"What would happen if you accidentally ate some?"

"I'd explode."

He laughed, "No, really, I'm curious."

"I'd probably just get really bad indigestion, followed by an overwhelming urge for revenge. Don't forget who cooks your meals, Mr. Cullen."

He laughed again. "Consider me warned." He paused for a moment, smiling at me, then asked, "How would you like to drive up to Dixon Point this morning? They have an excellent farmers' market on Saturdays and you can get whatever you need there."

"I've never been there. I'd love to."

Dixon Point was about 90 minutes north of town, up in the heart of the agricultural region. Mr. Cullen was right, the farmers' market was exceptional, and I got enough fruits and vegetables to get us through the rest of the week. We wandered through all of the stands, helping ourselves to enough free samples to make a light lunch. After packing the trunk with our purchases, Mr. Cullen said there was a wine store nearby that he wanted to visit. While he browsed through the rows of bottles, I wandered into an adjacent food shop, where he found me some time later in the gourmet section.

"Finding anything?"

"I don't even know what half this stuff is."

He looked over the shelves. "I'm not sure I do, either."

"I mean, preserved meyer lemons? I said, picking up a jar. "How would I make you anything with this?"

"I can't help you there."

"And what's fleur de sel? Is it better than regular salt?"

"I have no idea. Get some. Let's find out."

"Really?"

"Yes, really." He went to the end of the aisle and picked up a shopping basket. "Get whatever looks interesting. I'm paying, of course."

I spent the next several minutes filling the basket with an array of ingredients that sounded good but wasn't sure how to use.

"You know I love your cooking, Miss Swan. You don't have to impress me any further."

"Maybe I want to."

He kissed the top of my head and put his arm around my waist. It was the first time he'd touched me today and instinctively, I leaned into him.

"My perfect girl."

I looked up at him. Why was he being so hot and cold with me? He'd kissed me with enough passion Thursday after dinner that I knew he wanted me, but after helping me cook last night, he seemed to pull back. And now I was his perfect girl again. He looked down at me, his eyes meeting mine, his affection for me obvious. I was about to ask him why he hadn't touched me last night when he gave my waist a light squeeze, dropped his arm, and asked if I was ready to go.

When we got home, Mr. Cullen helped me out of the car and we carried in groceries and wine. He took the wine downstairs while I sorted all the produce we'd bought, putting some things aside to use later tonight, and getting everything else stowed away in the produce bin. I was putting our purchases from the food store away in the pantry when Mr. Cullen came back upstairs.

'I think I'll read for a while in the library if you care to join me, Miss Swan."

"Sure. That sounds good."

I went up to my room and got my laptop. Mr. Cullen was in one of the easy chairs with his legs stretched out in front of him when I joined him. I took the other chair and started researching recipes that used some of the ingredients I'd picked out this afternoon. I'd bookmarked several that sounded intriguing and had opened a word document to start a menu for next week when I happened to glance over at Mr. Cullen. He was watching me, a complacent smile on his face. I smiled back at him, then impulsively got up and brought my laptop over to his chair and knelt down next to his knee.

"Is this okay, Mr. Cullen?"

He immediately ran his hand over my hair and sighed. "This is always okay. You never have to ask."

I leaned my head again his thigh and kept working on my menu. His hand had dropped to my neck where his fingers lightly stroked my throat. We sat like that for maybe fifteen minutes before Mr. Cullen put his book aside.

"What are you working on?"

"Next week's menu. I'm trying to find recipes for the things we bought today."

"You do too much, my dear girl." I heard him sigh again, his fingers coming up to run through my hair.

"Mr. Cullen?"

"Hmm?"

"Why didn't you touch me last night at dinner?"

He didn't answer right away. "I wanted to. Very much."

"Then why didn't you?"

"I hadn't realized how much effort you put into preparing my dinners. I should have known, but I just never thought about it before last night."

"I don't understand." I looked up at him with a questioning expression.

"It's not right for me to want more." He met my gaze, his hand back in my hair. "I shouldn't let you slave away in the kitchen and then expect you to let me practically grope you when you're done." He gave me a slightly embarrassed smile.

"But I like it when you touch me. I told you that." I turned to face him, putting a hand on his knee.

"I know you did. It's not that I don't believe you, I just don't want to take advantage." He cupped my cheek and shook his head a little. "I'm sorry if I'm not explaining myself very well. Last night you'd already worked so hard to make me an incredible meal, and you're so beautiful next to me, and you let me feed you, too. Somehow being allowed to touch you as well just seems greedy, like I'm taking more than I should." He paused, then added in a low voice, "I'm afraid I could take more than you'd want to give me."

I watched my thumb trace a small circle on his knee, trying to gather my thoughts. Had I not been clear enough yesterday when I'd said I wasn't going to stop him? He knew I liked it when he touched me, but didn't he know how much I wanted it?

I looked up into his blue gaze. "But I want you to touch me, Mr. Cullen. I look forward to it all day."

"You do?" His fingers stilled, his eyes locked with mine.

"Yes. Please, sir. Please touch me. Please kiss me." I was rising to him as I spoke and he reached down for me, meeting me half way, kissing me as hard as he had Thursday night, opening my mouth roughly, his tongue finding mine immediately, drawing an involuntary groan out of me as I pulled him to me as tightly as I could, my hand sliding into his hair and fisting it to keep him there. He reached down and with one arm lifted me onto his lap, still kissing me with urgency, one hand on the back of my head, the other sweeping up the curves of my body, pulling me against him. His kiss was hungry, demanding, almost frantic as he buried his face in my neck, kissed my throat, my ear, my mouth again, his free hand on my hip, pulling me tightly to him.

He finally broke away, bringing his hand up to my face, running his fingers over my cheek, my parted lips, my chin, my throat, my collarbone, down the V of my t-shirt, sweeping lightly over my breast and sliding down over the curve of my hip to my thigh. I closed my eyes, the only sound in the room our heavy breathing. I felt his lips on my throat again, gently this time. "Beautiful girl, I can't resist you any more. Are you sure this is what you want?"

"I want_ you_," I answered, pulling his face up to mine and kissing him, tasting his lips with my tongue, tasting his mouth, pressing myself into him.

Something like a growl came out of him as he scooped his free hand under my knees and picked me up. He carried me upstairs, his eyes on mine then on my chest, then back to mine, his own getting an almost feral look, his jaw tight, his grip on me tighter.

When he got to his room, he laid me on his bed and stood over me. I reached up for him, but he shook his head. "You don't know how long I've imagined you laying here like this. Let me enjoy it." He reached down for the hem of my shirt and pulled it over my head. He stroked his hands over my breasts and down my stomach to the waistband of my shorts, popping the button and slowly pulling down the zipper. I lifted my hips as he eased them off, drawing them down my legs, his hands caressing every inch along the way. He stood back up and looked down at me in my bra and panties.

"Bella," he said, reaching behind me to unhook my bra, "I've been alone for a long time." He lifted my bra over my arms and dropped it on the floor, staring at my breasts. He pulled his shirt off in one quick motion and climbed on the bed, pushing my legs apart and kneeling between them, taking one of my nipples in his mouth and giving it a quick hard suck.

"Oh!" I cried out, arching my back at the sudden intense pleasure. "Oh," I groaned as he moved to the other one, swirling it with his tongue, his hands on my hips. He sat back and pulled off my panties, keeping my legs open around him when he was done, running his hands up my thighs.

"I want to be gentle with you, but I don't know if I can. I want you so much, my beautiful girl." His mouth was back on my breasts, his teeth nipping at me, his long fingers between my legs quickly driving me insane with want.

"Don't be," I managed to say, bringing my hands down to clutch his head to me. "Don't be gentle. I need you now."

He groaned, coming up to kiss me deeply, pushing me down into the bed with his weight. I wrapped my arms around him and ran my nails lightly from his shoulders to the small of his back. He groaned and eased up from me enough to undo his jeans and kick them off along with his boxers. "Do I need to find a condom? I don't even think I have any."

"No, I'm on the pill, no condom."

I felt him align himself at my entrance and with one thrust he was in me, both of us moaning at the sheer relief of the feeling. I arched my neck back and pulled him in to me as tightly as I could, impossibly full of him.

He was still for a moment, his breath heavy in my ear. I lifted my hips, rubbing my pelvic bone on his, needing more. "Oh god," he muttered into my neck. "I promise to make this up to you, beautiful Bella." And then he started thrusting, thrusting as if his life depended on it, as if there was no other reason for him to be on this earth but to fuck me as hard as he could. I threw my head back again and wailed, the sensation so overwhelming I could do nothing but hold on to his shoulders as he took total possession of me. He was the only thing in the universe, the only thing that mattered.

I clung to him as if I were drowning, and that's what it felt like, like I was drowning in a ocean of Edward Cullen, each of his thrusts hitting me like a violent, relentless surf. I felt myself start to surrender to his onslaught, felt that first twinge of ecstasy and cried out again, my hands pressing on his lower back to drive him on, welcoming each punishing surge, reveling in his breath on my neck, the sweat I could feel between our bodies, the growing anticipation of something phenomenal … and then it happened. I came. Hard. My entire body stiffened and tightened, a long guttural cry escaping my lips. Oh, it felt so good. So good. How long had it been since I'd felt this good?

I was so lost in my own euphoria that when Mr. Cullen came a few seconds later, I wasn't even paying attention. If I'd felt like I was drowning a minute ago, now I was lost at sea, afloat in post-coital bliss, everything suddenly so perfect in my world I couldn't quite wrap my head around it. Mr. Cullen was laying on top of me, moaning and still moving slowly in and out of me. That was perfect. His hair was still the softest I'd ever touched, my hands coming up to cradle his head. Perfect. His back was so smooth, lean and lanky but with just the right amount of muscle. Perfect.

Mr. Cullen pulled himself up onto his elbows and looked down at me. He kissed me slowly, tenderly. "My girl," he whispered as he kissed me again. I smiled into his kiss, wondering how he was already able to talk. He looked down at me again, his hands in my hair, reading my inability to speak. He eased out of me, rolled onto his back and pulled me up onto his chest, one arm around my back the other playing with my hair.

I listened to the gradual restoration of his heartbeat while I brushed my fingertips through his light chest hair.

"You're so beautiful, Bella, so beautiful." His arm tightened around me.

I dug my face into his chest and found my voice. "You're the beautiful one, Mr. Cullen."

"Call me Edward when we're like this."

"Edward."

"Say it again."

"Edward." I kissed his jaw. "Edward." I kissed his ear. "Edward." I kissed the side of his neck. "Edward." I kissed his lips.

He ran his hand down my back and cupped my ass, closing his eyes, and pulling me against him. "I'm sorry if I was too rough."

I got a burst of energy and clambered on top of him, straddling his waist. "You were perfect. You can make that up to me any time." I leaned down to kiss him, then sat up, running my hands over his chest and his flat stomach, his shoulders and arms. He kept his hands on my ass, letting out a quiet moan when I leaned down again to nuzzle his neck and flick my tongue over his nipples. Now that I finally had him naked in front of me, I wanted to taste every inch of his skin, kiss every spot I could reach.

"Bella, it's been so long since someone touched me. Don't stop."

"I'm never going to, don't worry." I kissed my way down his chest, my hair trailing over his ribs, and made my way to his stomach, so flat and taut, his muscles twitching as I kissed lower, and lower yet. He was getting hard again and I took him in my hand, stroking lightly. It was his turn to throw his head back and groan. I kissed the tip of his penis and then licked the whole length. It was in beautiful, perfect proportion to the rest of his long body, and when I wrapped my mouth around him, he only fit half way.

"God, oh god, get up here." He pulled me back up to straddle him and I eased myself down, slowly taking him in inch by inch. He watched me silently, his hands on my waist, letting me seat myself completely before closing his eyes and groaning again. He reached for my breasts and I arched my back, pushing them into his hands, leaning my weight back with my hands on his thighs. I started moving up and down, the sensation from this angle so different, not as completely overwhelming but almost more intense as I could feel every inch of him inside me. I threw my head back and moaned. He grabbed my ass again, helping me move on him.

"God, Bella, I'm going to come again already."

"Me, too," I managed to gasp.

He was clutching me so tightly, his fingers squeezing and releasing in rhythm to my motions, his hips beginning to thrust up to meet me, my orgasm taking longer to build this time but finally coming with a sweetness that brought tears to my eyes. I clamped down on him, my head thrown back and thrashing from side to side as the pleasure washed over me.

He curled up to me as he came too, his arms wrapping around me, pulling me back down with him in a tight embrace. I was trembling and panting and incapable of moving any of my limbs. I kept my eyes closed for a long time, listening to his heart beat, listening to his breathing, wishing I could somehow burrow into his body and get even closer to him, wishing he and I could lay here like this forever.

I felt him kiss my hair and managed to move my fingers lightly across his chest. "I could lay here forever."

He tightened his arms around me. "Good, because it's my newest rule."

I smiled into his chest. "You're so bossy."

He kissed my hair again. "You're so perfect."

**A/N: Well, my dear readers, I hope it was worth the wait. When I started writing this story I was very apprehensive about my ability to do lemons, but by the time I got to this point of the story I realized I was much more concerned with building a believable path from the job interview to here. Don't get me wrong, I did try to make this good (I'm not 100% satisfied with the ocean metaphor) but I was much more nervous posting earlier chapters than this one. And since it's done, and a couple of reviewers said they appreciated earlier updates, I decided there was no reason to wait until later today. Thanks again to everyone who's reading, reviewing and favoriting - I can't tell you how much I appreciate it! - kts**


	19. Chapter 19

Chapter 19

At some point Sunday morning I finally regained consciousness. I stretched and smiled, not bothering to open my eyes. I didn't care what time it was. It didn't matter. Nothing mattered but that I was here, in this bed. I never wanted to get up and I decided that I never would. My new job would be to lay naked in Mr. Cullen's bed all day. And all night. I'd work for free. He could use my salary to hire someone to bring me meals. No, he could do it himself. I didn't want any strangers in my kitchen.

I rolled over. I was alone. Of course I was; Mr. Cullen probably couldn't sleep in late any better than I napped. Mr. Cullen, I sighed. Mr. soft-haired, long-fingered, strike that – _magical_-fingered, Cullen. I had a whole new list of adjectives to describe him after last night, a whole new dictionary. Tender, demanding, gentle, ferocious, insatiable, satiating … I was sure I could come up with all the words while I laid here today.

My stomach growled, loudly. Turncoat, I thought, as I rolled back over, trying to ignore it and stay committed to my new job. It growled again and I remembered that I hadn't eaten anything last night except a few bites of salad and bread. Mr. Cullen and I had finally gotten out of bed around seven and I'd fixed us a salad, but we hadn't eaten much, our appetite for each other stronger. "It's okay, stomach," I said, taking pity on it, "I'll feed you soon. Let's just lay here a little longer, okay?"

"Who are you talking to, Miss Swan?"

"My stomach."

"Of course."

Mr. Cullen had snuck up on me again, this time with a tray of something that smelled delicious. My stomach sat up and took notice, and then the rest of me did.

"Look at you." He said quietly.

I quickly pulled the sheet up.

"No, no, none of that. A little late for modesty, isn't it?"

I let the sheet drop.

"Much better." He sat down next to me and put the tray on my lap. He'd brought me scrambled eggs, toast, and best of all, a cup of coffee. I picked it up and took a sip, looking up at him from under the rim. He looked like he always did, which was perfect. Perfect with a healthy dollop of satisfaction and maybe a hint of apprehension.

He pulled my pillow up again the headboard and I leaned back, bringing my coffee cup with me.

"I was just imagining this."

"Imagining what?"

"You bringing me meals, while I lay here all day. I think it's a good idea."

"It's an excellent idea. Anything that keeps you in my bed."

"Just try to get me out of it. I'm not leaving. Ever." I stretched, arching my back.

"Is that a promise?"

"Yes." I smiled, sitting back up.

"Well, then, let's get you fed." He smiled and lifted up a forkful of eggs, the apprehension gone from his expression.

Two hours later we were arguing in the kitchen. I'd had to break my promise when nature eventually called. I then took a long, hot shower, enjoying the new but wholly welcome aches and pains in my limbs. Eventually I made my way downstairs to look for Mr. Cullen and I found him in the kitchen peeling an orange. I hugged him from behind and he handed me a segment.

"Are you polishing your skills for dinner tonight?"

"No, my girl, I'm taking you out."

"Oh, no, you're not."

"Yes, I am. That was the deal. I'm in charge of one night on the weekend."

"But I thought you were going to cook."

"I'd rather treat you to a meal you deserve."

"You're too generous as it is. You can't make me go."

"I probably could. You're not as good a fighter as you think."

"I wasn't fighting you last night. You still don't know how good I really am."

"The idea of carrying you kicking and screaming to the car isn't entirely unappealing to me."

"Not just to the car, into the restaurant as well. And I'll throw food at you during the meal."

"Such bad manners. It's not too late to enroll you in a finishing school. I'll look into it this afternoon."

I slapped him lightly on his arm. He caught my hand and lifted it to his lips. He kissed the back of it, then turned it over and kissed my palm. He looked down at me as he slowly kissed each finger. My resolve melted.

"You'll be ready to leave at six, my dear Miss Swan?"

I could only nod in acquiescence.

We spent most of the afternoon together in the library. I'd settled in my chair to read for a while and he joined me with his laptop. I tried to concentrate on my book, but found myself constantly stealing glances at him. Now that I knew how good-looking he was everywhere_,_ it wasn't only his face that was distracting me. The only sound in the room was his typing. I need a finger fix, so I got up and came around to the left side of his chair and knelt down on the floor next to him.

I watched him type for a few minutes, then lent my head against his leg and returned to my book.

At five I went upstairs to get ready for dinner. I dug through some of the clothes I'd bought in LaPorte, and decided on a light blue sundress that kept my shoulders bare and fell to just above my knees. I didn't know where we were going and this would work for either fancy or casual. I fixed my hair, put on a little makeup, and put on my necklace. Alice had insisted I get some shoes to go with the dress, so I rummaged for the sandals I'd stuck in my closet, never believing I'd have an occasion to wear heels. They were only a couple of inches high, but that was a lot more than I was used to, and I took a few practice steps until I was sure I had my balance. Mr. Cullen might send to me to finishing school after all if I stumbled and tripped all evening.

I pulled a light sweater out of my closet and went downstairs. Mr. Cullen was in the living room watching TV, but he turned it off when I came in and stood. He put one hand on his hip and made a motion with his other for me to spin. I did a slow turn for him. While he looked me over, I did the same to him. He was wearing slim black pants, belted, with a solid blue dress shirt, no tie. If his shirt were just a few shades lighter, we'd almost match.

He walked up to me and cupped my face, smiling down.

"Here's my princess. You look lovely."

"Thank you. You look nice too."

"Shall we?"

"I'm ready if you are."

"You're going to come willingly? I don't need to haul you over my shoulder?"

"Not this time," I grinned, remembering him taking me upstairs yesterday. I was beginning to think he liked carrying me around.

"Then let's go." He held my hand on the way to the car.

We ate at one of the nicest seafood restaurants in town. I mentioned during dinner that I'd been here once before.

"Oh? Was it a special occasion?"

"It was a date, actually. A guy in one of my classes last fall asked me out."

"Did you see him for very long?"

"No, that was our only date. He was nice, but we didn't have that much in common."

"You don't have to have a lot in common with someone to start a relationship. Not if there's an attraction."

"That's true, I guess. But there wasn't an attraction, either. Alas, no sparks."

"Too bad for him."

"You don't sound the least bit sorry." I smiled at him over my wineglass.

"I'm not. I don't like the thought of someone else touching you." He smiled back, but I noticed his jaw tighten just a fraction.

"Don't worry, not many have, and not in a long time. And no one's touched me the way you have," I added.

He reached for my knee under the table.

"Good."

"What about you, Mr. Cullen? I've been wondering since I started working for you how you can possibly still be single."

"Really?" He sounded genuinely surprised.

"Yes, of course. I mean, look at you. You're fairly good-looking, moderately successful, somewhat well-mannered. Surely you could have lured some poor unsuspecting female into sharing your life with you by now."

"Maybe that's what I'm doing with you," he smirked.

"Maybe," I laughed. "But there's no way I believe I'm your first victim."

"No, but you're the first in a long time for me as well. I've had a few girlfriends over the years. Some serious, some not. The period of my life after my parents died, I was a little wild. I told you I'd made some mistakes, and the last relationship I was in was one of them. It ended badly, and I swore off women for a while. Then I moved here and I guess I never met anyone who interested me. I don't get out that much, you've probably noticed."

"So no crazy ex-wives?"

"God, no. No, I've never been married."

"Have you ever been in love?"

"I thought I was once, when I was about your age."

"Let me guess, you were too young to know better?"

"Very astute of you, Miss Swan."

"What happened, if you don't mind my asking?"

"I don't mind." He paused, his face growing pensive. "She was very pretty, very smart. A lot like you actually." He smiled at me. "Unfortunately my parents didn't approve of her."

"Why not?"

"My family was quite wealthy and my father especially was very status-conscious. She simply didn't measure up."

"That's sad." I couldn't even imagine my dad telling me who I could or couldn't date.

"I thought it was unforgivable." He paused again, lost in his thoughts. "I wanted to run away with her," he finally added.

"How romantic."

"How young. Luckily, she refused."

"Why?"

"She'd gotten a full scholarship to the art school we attended and she said she couldn't walk away from that. At the time, I felt like she didn't care for me the way I did for her, but in retrospect she clearly made the right decision."

"I guess I can understand how she must have felt, a full scholarship is a big deal."

He nodded in agreement, taking a bite of his dinner.

"I'd have been sorely tempted, though, if it had been me," I smiled.

"Would you now."

"Well, maybe. You already knew how to play the piano?"

He smiled back at me and nodded, picking up his wineglass and taking a sip.

"Then it would have been a difficult choice."

He put his wine glass down and reached across the table to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear, his fingers lingering.

"So, no torrid affairs in your past, Miss Swan?"

"No, like I said, boyfriends have been few and far between."

"I find that hard to believe."

"It's true," I shrugged. "I dated a little in high school, and in college I had a couple of boyfriends but nothing serious. When I started here last fall, a few guys asked me out, but none of them interested me that much and I figured I was only here for the year, so there wasn't any reason to get involved with anyone."

He turned his eyes down to his plate and was silent for a minute, fiddling with his dinner.

"Well, at least it sounds like I don't have to worry about one of your peers snatching you away from me."

"No, you have to watch out for other men your age." I made a dismissive gesture with my eyes, letting him know how absurd he was being.

"And if someone thirty-five comes along and catches your eye?"

"He'd have to have two pianos." I smirked at him. "And a bigger library."

After dinner we strolled for a while through a nearby park. It was about eight, but the sun was already starting to go down and the air had finally cooled. Mr. Cullen helped me put my sweater over my shoulders, giving my waist a quick squeeze as I straightened the hem, and keeping his arm around me afterward as we walked back to the car.

The drive home was quiet. I was full, not used to eating a whole entree for dinner, let alone two glasses of wine, and feeling very relaxed. I leaned back against the headrest and watched Mr. Cullen's hand work the gear-shift.

"Thank you for dinner, Mr. Cullen," I finally remembered to say.

"You're welcome, princess."

We parked in the garage and he helped me out, keeping hold of my hand as we entered the house.

He flipped on the kitchen lights, dropped his keys on the counter, and pulled me into an embrace.

"You have no idea how difficult it was for me not to touch you tonight," he murmured, running his hands down my back, past my hips, squeezing my butt and using his hold to pull my hips closer to his. I knew from last night how much he really did appreciate my behind, and I arched my back, lifting it into his hands.

"Oh god, what you do to me," His face was buried in my neck, his mouth hot and wet on my skin. "in this dress, your legs, you have no idea. So beautiful."

I could feel the rising effect I was having on him with our bodies pressed together, and his words were all that I needed to light me on fire too.

"Upstairs," I whispered, willing him to take me to bed.

"No. Here."

"Here?"

"Turn around."

I did. I leaned down on the island. "Like this, sir?"

"Yes, just like that."

I felt his hands on my calves first. They rose slowly up my legs, past the back of my knees, up the back of my thighs, bringing my dress up with them.

"This is what I think about when you bring in my dinner," he said in a low voice. "I think about turning you over the table and doing this." He pulled down my panties, eased them over my shoes, stood back up and pushed my legs apart with his knees. "I think about you all spread out like this for me. I think about how's there's no meal in the world comparable to your sweetness, your beauty."

I heard him undo his belt followed by the rustle of cloth as he must have lowered his pants. I could barely breathe with anticipation. I fisted my hands, trying to control the tremors that were already sweeping through me. Seconds later he pushed into me with so much force I was lifted off my feet. The loudest sound I'd ever made in the house came out of me from somewhere deep inside.

"That's it, let me hear you, beautiful girl." He began moving in and out, holding my waist tightly in his hands, setting a wickedly slow pace that soon had me begging for more. I was indecent in my pleas, all care thrown aside as I bucked my hips, desperately urging him to give me what I needed.

"When you beg me like that," he panted behind me, "if you only knew what it does to me." He began picking up his pace. "You. Are. My. Perfect. Girl." He matched a thrust to each word.

"Oh!" I felt like I was yelling but I had no control over myself as each of his thrusts began feeling deeper and harder than the last, bringing me closer and closer to my orgasm. I felt one of his hands snake up into my hair and he pulled my head back, lifting my torso off the island. He leaned down over me and buried his face in my neck, his thrusts growing even more intense. "Bella," he moaned, "my god, Bella, what you do to me."

That was all it took for me to fall apart, my name passing his lips. Every single muscle in my body clenched into a spasm of pure joy, as another loud moan escaped me. I felt him thrust once more, then again, and then he stiffened as well, his moan in my ear echoing my own. He collapsed on top of me, our breaths the only sounds in the room. He slowly kissed the back of my neck, my shoulder, the top of my back, my other shoulder, the side of my face, my lips. I lay underneath him, savoring each touch of his mouth.

"You'll sleep in my bed from now on." He murmured into my lips.

"Yes," I managed to agree on a shaky exhale.

"Then let's get you upstairs. I'm not done with you."

**A/N: Wow, the response to the last chapter was more than a little overwhelming - thank you all so much! I'm able to post early again today but no promises about tomorrow; the next chapter still needs some work and I've got a lot going on right now. But we'll see ;) kts**


	20. Chapter 20

Chapter 20

"Something amusing you, Miss Swan?"

"Oh no, sir. Nothing at all."

"Then do you care to explain that silly grin on your face?"

I shook my head innocently. "I don't know what you mean." I pursed my lips to keep my grin from spreading.

We were sitting at the island eating breakfast, and I, of course, having the maturity of a thirteen year old, couldn't stop replaying last night in my head.

He grinned back at me and took a sip of coffee.

"I was just thinking how much I love this kitchen." I ran my hand over the spot where he'd bent me over last night. "And I really like this island."

"Do you, now."

"Hm-hmm. It's the perfect height. You know, to work at."

He chuckled. "I like this island, too. Very handy."

"Someone else in this house is very handy."

He snorted into his cup.

"Is something amusing you, Mr. Cullen?" I took a bite of toast.

He shook his head. "It just turns out my very proper little housekeeper has a naughty streak. I should have checked her references more thoroughly."

"You should have. You can't be too careful."

"I realize that now, but what can I do? I can't let her go."

"No?"

"Nope. She's quickly become invaluable to me."

"I guess you'll just have to suffer on with her then."

"I guess I will. Poor me." He smiled that crinkly-eyed smile that I loved and impulsively I got up and went around the island to hug him. He pulled me to stand between his legs and wrapped his arms around me tightly, burying his face in my neck. He relaxed his arms and ran them up and down my back, while he sighed and kissed my neck. "I feel as though I'm never going to get enough of you, Miss Swan."

I smiled and rested my head on his shoulder. "I feel exactly the same way."

"Sadly, though, I have a lot of work to get done this week. I've got to try to leave you alone." He pulled me in tightly again.

"I'll try not to distract you. I don't want to interfere with your work."

"You have no idea how much you distract me without even trying." He reached up and cupped my face, tilting it so I was looking at him. He kissed me lightly. "I'm always wondering where you are in the house, what you're doing." He kissed me again. "Wondering if I can make up a plausible excuse to come find you."

"Sneak up on me, you mean." I kissed him back.

"I like to watch you work."

"I've noticed."

"Was I that obvious?"

"It took me a while to figure out, but yeah."

He chuckled and kissed my nose. "Who could blame me, my beautiful girl?" He ran his thumb over my cheek, his face growing serious. "I got two new emails this morning from faculty looking for help on their translations. This is my busiest time of year, the summer, when professors aren't teaching and are hoping to publish instead."

"Maybe we should have a new rule, no touching until dinner."

He closed his eyes and pulled me in to him. "That's what I was thinking. We'll start in about ten minutes." He buried his face back into my neck.

"Mmm. Twenty minutes."

"Twenty minutes, you're right."

By Friday, we seemed to have set the ground rules of our relationship. During the day, Mr. Cullen treated me much as he had before, his self-control slipping only a couple of times. I didn't mind his need to keep me at arm's length during the day because our dinners became only that more anticipated and erotic, and the nights I spent in his bed were so passionate, so sensuous, that I was already completely under his thrall. Even the nights we didn't make love he still found ways to make me feel cherished and desired. He knew every inch of my body, and I his, and by the end of that week, there was nothing I wouldn't do for him. I think I was already in love.

Alice saw it on my face immediately when I met her for lunch. "It happened!"

I grinned from ear to ear. "What gave it away?"

"You're glowing enough to light a small city, maybe a big one. You have to tell me everything, starting from the beginning, right now."

I bit my lip, trying to get some control over my stupid grin. "Um, it started last weekend."

"And? How is he?"

"Amazing, Alice. Amazing."

"Ahh, look at you. He must be. Now come on," she bounced up and down in her chair. "I want details!"

"Okay, okay, calm down! I kissed him in the library Saturday afternoon and then he carried me upstairs to bed."

"Oh my god, how romantic."

"He is so romantic. He took me out for dinner at Pierre's Sunday night and when we got home he made love to me in the kitchen."

"In the kitchen?"

"It was like he couldn't wait. It was incredible."

"In the kitchen, wow."

"I know. You were right about his pent-up energy."

She shook her head in awe. "And to think I used to be jealous of your bike and dress. Now you're getting the really good stuff."

"Yes, I am," I happily punctuated each word.

"So are you still working for him?"

"Of course. Nothing's changed except that I sleep in his bed at night now."

"And it's all good? You're okay sleeping with your boss?" She was smiling at me, but there was a serious undertone to her question.

"God, yes. It's kind of hard to explain, the way we get along. When I'm not working, he's always treated me rather formally, and that hasn't changed very much, although he's more affectionate. And when I'm working, he still does nice things like play the piano when I'm dusting the library, just longer, like he's trying to make me happy. The days aren't really all that different."

"Just the nights."

"Yep."

We ate for a while, exchanging grins every now and then.

"So what finally got him to break?"

I thought back to last weekend. "He'd begun touching me at dinner, and I'd told him that I liked it, thinking that would be enough of a signal, but it wasn't until I told him how much I wanted him to touch me that he gave in."

"So you sit with him at dinner now?"

I nodded. "He said he likes my company."

"And he touches you?"

"He likes to touch my hair and face during dinner and feed me from his plate."

She gave me a puzzled look.

"I know it sounds weird. It probably is weird, but what can I say, I like it."

She didn't say anything for a minute, looking me over.

"I don't think I've ever seen you look so happy," she finally smiled at me, "so as long as you know what you're doing, I won't say anything about how odd that sounds."

"Alice, you know I love you, but cut me a little slack, okay? This is all new to me. I've never felt this way about anyone before. I'm still trying to absorb the fact that I'm falling in love with my boss."

"That was my next question."

"I mean, he's so kind to me, he makes me feel so special. He calls me his princess."

"Oh lord, you didn't stand a chance, did you?"

"I don't think I did. When I first met him, I thought he was the handsomest man I'd ever laid eyes on, but there were some things I couldn't figure out about him. Now that I know those things weren't anything to worry about, there's nothing stopping me from falling at his feet." Literally.

"What things?"

"Oh, you know, like the reason your aunt quit. It turns out their personalities just didn't mesh and he avoided her when he could, and wasn't very nice to her when he couldn't."

"What else?"

"I finally took your advice and googled him but there wasn't anything, so I asked him one evening what exactly he wrote. Turns out he's a translator for the University."

"How does he afford that house on a translator's salary?"

"He inherited some money when his parents died, and I guess they were pretty wealthy."

"What else?"

"He's never been married, though he was in love just once, when he was younger. Oh, that was the problem with him hesitating to start anything with me, he thinks he's too old, that our age difference makes him a lecherous old man. His words."

"But he's over that?"

"He sure seems to be." I smiled as I took the last bite of my pizza. "He said I may be the best thing that's ever happened to him."

"Wow. This sounds way more serious than a summer fling."

"We haven't talked about it yet, but I can tell he doesn't want me to leave in the fall. But that's a long time from now, so who knows, right? Maybe we'll hate the sight of each other by the end of the summer."

"I seriously doubt that, Bella. I seriously doubt that."

I do too, I thought, laying in Mr. Cullen's bed that night, my body spent, his arm draped over my hip, his last whispered 'perfect girl' lingering in the air as we succumbed to sleep.

The rest of June was hot. Really hot. I'd never experienced this kind of heat and couldn't believe how much it affected me. I could barely move without breaking a sweat, everything I lifted feeling heavier than it should, including my own arms and legs. Mr. Cullen's thick curtains finally made sense, as they kept the rooms relatively cool when drawn against the sun during the day. But by late afternoon, I felt like I was moving in slow motion, the simplest things like chopping an onion or preparing a salad seeming to take forever. It felt like time itself had slowed, giving in to the heat, everything giving into the heat. Dinner was late several times but Mr. Cullen wasn't immune himself and waved aside my apologies with an understanding smile.

He tried so hard to keep me comfortable. He went through the house at night, opening windows to let in the cooler evening air. He told me to work less, then not at all if I didn't want to. He brought me glasses of water during the day and offered me more sips of his drinks at dinner to make sure I was getting enough fluids. One especially hot night he pulled me onto his lap, pulled my zipper down to my waist, eased my dress off my shoulders altogether, unhooked my bra and ran an ice cube over my torso. He licked the melted water off my body, no relief left in the world but his cooling tongue on my flesh.

I came out of my stupor the first week of July, when the heat finally broke. It was astounding to find myself suddenly attuned to my surroundings and motions as I made dinner the first cool evening, fully aware of myself again. This was me, making dinner, for Mr. Cullen, who would be on the other side of that door in half an hour. Mr. Cullen, the man I loved. Mr. Cullen, whom I needed to see. I found him in his office.

"Miss Swan?" He looked up at me in surprise as I ran in, my limbs finally feeling light again, like they were mine, like this was me.

I threw myself onto him and kissed him everywhere I could touch. His jaw, his cheeks, his forehead, his eyes, his neck, his ears, his mouth, again and again, everywhere, everywhere he was I wanted to kiss. I pulled his hair, bringing his mouth to the angle I needed, delving into it with my tongue, running my other hand over his delicious, perfect chest, pressing myself against his groin, doing everything in my power to express what I felt for him, needing to express it, my feelings for him just having grown during the heat wave but having no capable outlet.

"I want you," I choked out as I unfastened his belt and undid his zipper. I could feel him hardening underneath my hands and my lust for him exploded even more, like a string of firecrackers going off inside me. I stood up, yanked down my underwear, and straddled him again, rubbing my wetness against his hard length, letting him feel how swollen and hot I was for him. "I want you," I said again, this time with more urgency, now that I could feel the difference between our bodies. Now that everything was perfect again.

He swept things aside on his desk and lifted me to the edge, pulling my skirt up to my waist and pushing my legs apart. "Wider," was all he said, as I lay back, bumping things with my head, not caring, spreading my legs as wide as I could, completely open to him, all his.

He stood looking down at me for moment, taking in my wanton supplication, running his hands back and forth over the insides of my thighs. Then he gripped my hips and plunged himself inside me. I pulled him down to me with a fierce groan, digging my hands into his hair, holding him to me as tightly as I could. I couldn't seem to get him close enough as I writhed up, using every muscle in my restored body to pull him into me.

"You want me," he gasped into my neck, beginning his thrusts, his hands in my hair.

"So much." I managed to get out. He pulled up and braced his hands on the desk on either side of my head, watching my face as he moved above me. I turned my head and kissed his beautiful fingers, the only part of him I could still reach with my mouth. He put his hand on my cheek, and I drew one of his fingers into my mouth, sucking on it as he kept moving within me, completely filling me, every cell in me awakened and alive and desperate for him.

He watched my face as we both grew closer to falling apart. I climaxed first, having no ability to hold back and wait for him, releasing his finger to cry out my pleasure. He joined me soon, his final thrusts violent, his expression one of almost pain as he released into me. He stayed braced above me, still watching me as I came back together.

"I've never seen anything more beautiful in my life," he said almost to himself, returning his hand to my cheek, caressing it tenderly with his thumb. I looked up into his eyes, my love for him surely written all over me, like a third presence in the room. I let my eyes tell him the truth this time, not trusting my voice yet. He read them once, twice, then leaned down and kissed me so delicately I barely felt his lips.

I let out something close to a sob and wrapped my arms around his shoulders. He eased out of me, but picked me up and sat back down in his chair, holding me around him, neither one of us ever wanting to let go. If we weren't ready to say the words yet, that was okay. We both knew.

Dinner was very late that night.

I went back to my mostly-obedient self after that, but my little outburst seemed to have changed something in Mr. Cullen. It was like he finally let go of any concerns he had about us being together, reassured finally that I wanted him as much as he wanted me. He was freer with me in conversation, opened up more about himself, teased me less frequently, touched me more often.

Another week or two passed. Mr. Cullen was working more than ever. His Wednesday appointment turned out to the be the day he went to campus to meet with whomever he was working with to discuss their projects. He confessed that some Wednesdays he hadn't had meetings set up but had left the house anyway so that Mrs. Whitlock could clean his office. He'd while away the hours in coffee shops or bookstores, waiting until it was safe to come back. The way he told the story made me laugh out loud.

The last week of July we had our first argument since the night he took me out to Pierre's.

"Miss Swan, I believe this decision is mine to make, not yours."

"I can do it myself, Mr. Cullen."

"At least let me get someone in here to help with the meals."

"No way. I don't want any strangers in my kitchen."

"Your kitchen?"

"Yes, it's mine now. I should have told you."

"Fine, you can have the kitchen."

"Thank you."

"But I'm having someone come in Saturday to get the house ready, and that's final."

"You are so stubborn." I was beginning to give in. I really needed the time this weekend to finalize my University application, which was due Monday.

"I was just about to say the same thing."

"You told me I was expected to work harder when you had company. I'm just trying to do my job." I'd had my arms crossed but now that I'd won the point about sharing my kitchen, I reached up and put my hands on his shoulders.

He slid his hands over my hips. "That was before getting accepted at Noble this fall became your most important duty. I changed your job description. I should have told you."

Thursday evening he came down to the kitchen while I was making dinner, something he did now at least 3 or 4 times a week. He'd offer to help with whatever I was making, and if I didn't need help, he'd sit at the island, watching me work, making small talk.

I handed him a couple of ears of corn and asked him to shuck them for me while I started pot of water to boil and then went out to start the grill. When I came back in, he cleared his throat.

"So my brothers arrive Sunday around 3, if their flight's on time."

"Yes, sir, I know." I pulled some chicken breasts and lettuce out of the fridge.

"I've been wondering what to tell them about us."

"Oh?"

"I mean, obviously not about our dinners, but I'm not sure what else I should say. I thought I'd better ask you how you want to handle it."

"I haven't thought about it yet, to be honest. What are my choices?"

"I want to do whatever makes you the most comfortable. Whether that's pretending that you're merely my live-in housekeeper or telling them that you're my girlfriend," he looked up me, his use of that word for the first time not lost on either of us, "is entirely up to you."

I moved to stand behind him, putting my arms around his shoulders while he continued working on the corn.

"Will they give you a lot of grief if we tell them we're together?" I rested my chin on his shoulder.

"Some, I'm sure. How much I don't know."

"Would you rather pretend we're not together?"

"No, frankly. I don't mind telling them the truth and it's going to be almost impossible for me to keep my hands off you for a week, especially if you go back to sleeping in your old room while they're here."

I kissed the side of his neck.

"But I'll do whatever you prefer, Miss Swan. It's up to you."

"Then I think I'd rather not leave my boyfriend's bed. Now that you've given me the kitchen, it's the next thing on my list. Let's tell them."


	21. Chapter 21

Chapter 21

Mr. Cullen's brothers were charming. Robert was was the elder of the two, Jonathan the younger. Both had the same good manners and dry wit as Mr. Cullen but were more outgoing and relaxed. Mr. Cullen introduced me to them as his housekeeper-turned-girlfriend, one arm around my waist. Robert looked at Mr. Cullen with a question on his face but Jonathan reached out immediately for my hand, shaking it with enthusiasm and asking me how I put up with Edward. I grinned and said I had him pretty well-trained at this point, which made everyone laugh, and that was it, I was accepted.

I got my application turned in Monday after lunch and biked to Southbay's for a few things I'd forgotten to get on Saturday when Mr. Cullen and I had driven into town to load up on groceries. When I returned I could hear Robert and Mr. Cullen talking in the living room.

"She's awfully young, Edward."

"I'm perfectly aware of her age."

I guessed they were talking about me and didn't want to hear it. I pulled the door closed and got busy on dinner. Mr. Cullen and I agreed it would be too much for me to serve everyone, so I'd been setting out meals buffet-style in the kitchen, and everyone fixed their own plates. Still, there was a lot of food to make.

Even with the door pulled closed, I could hear unfamiliar noises in the house. Laughter, children running on the stairs, doors banging. I turned on my radio, figuring no one would notice it, and wondered how Mr. Cullen was coping.

I found out a couple of hours later when he came in for a quick visit. He picked me up off my feet and kissed me.

"Are you doing all right down here? Need any help?"

"No, I've got it. How are you handling all the commotion? It sounds like a parade is going on out there."

He shook his head with a grimace. "It's great to see my family, I mean that, but I'd much rather be in here with you."

"My poor man. I'd make up something for you to help me with, but it'd be rude of you to stay in here. Now, go on back out, and I'll see you at dinner."

"You'll sit with us tonight?"

I'd declined to join the family last night, figuring they needed some time together to catch up. I nodded and said, "I'd love to."

Dinner was ready at 6, although the children had wandered in at 5:30. I found simple tasks to keep them busy as I put the dishes together and set everything out. When the adults arrived, everyone started filling their plates and heading into the dining-room. I stayed until I was sure everyone had what they needed and then took off my apron, made a plate for myself and brought it in. Everyone was seated except Mr. Cullen, who was standing behind my usual chair.

"Here you are, Miss Swan," he smiled, pulling the chair out for me.

"Thank you, Mr. Cullen," I smiled back as I sat down.

He made drinks and poured wine, then sat down, putting a hand on my knee under the table.

"This is delicious," Jonathan's wife Cecilia said, taking a bite of the rice dish.

"Thank you."

"The salmon's done perfectly." Robert added.

"I love what you've done with the asparagus." Robert's wife Joanne turned to me from the other end of the table. "Normally I don't care for asparagus, but this is delicious. How did you make it, Miss Swan?"

"I roasted it with olive oil and sea salt. And please, call me Bella."

"Bella, you're an amazing cook. No wonder Edward's so taken with you." Jonathan said.

I felt Mr. Cullen give me a squeeze on my knee. I hadn't consciously intended to make a one-hand-only meal but was glad I did, his touch so familiar at this point that I would have felt lost without it.

Apart from answering a few more generic questions about myself, I kept quiet through most of the meal, just absorbing what details I could about Mr. Cullen's family. The conversation floated around me as I gleaned that Robert and Joanne were both attorneys, that Jonathan was an executive at an insurance company, and Cecilia worked for an internet company. They were all obviously well-educated and successful, and I tried to imagine myself at 30, wondering what I'd have to show for myself. As they chattered on about their jobs, houses, and children, their lives seemed so far away from where I was that I found myself beginning to pay more attention to the kids, feeling more at ease with them than I did with the adults. For the first time ever in Mr. Cullen's company, I felt too young.

When we went to bed that night, he asked if something was bothering me. I sighed and looked up at the ceiling, trying to find the words to describe how I'd felt at dinner. He played with a strand of my hair, waiting patiently, watching my face with concern.

"It's just that all this time we've been together, I thought our age difference was a potential problem for me. It's not a problem for me, that's not what I mean, but you were so worried that you were too old for me, and Alice was concerned about your intentions too, and I was only focused on how you being older was not an issue, not the other way around." I rubbed my face, frustrated at my incoherence. "What I mean is, it never occurred to me until tonight that my age might be a problem for you. That I'm too young for you."

He looked at me with so much affection, running one of his fingers up and down my cheek.

"Bella, I don't care if you're twenty-one, thirty-one, or forty-one."

He only called me Bella during our most intimate moments. I rolled over to face him, reading nothing in his expression but truth.

"But -"

"But," he leaned in to kiss me. "But." He kissed me again. "But." Again. "Miss Swan, the princess of buts." Again.

I couldn't help but chuckle. "That did not sound right. I do not want to be the princess of buts."

He ran his hand over my rear. "Sorry, my girl, but you kind of are."

"Stop it," I giggled. "I'm serious. I felt so young at dinner. Don't you want to be with someone who's finished their education, has a career, someone who's at the same stage of life as you?"

"You will finish your education, you will have a successful career, and as far as my stage of life goes, my life was empty until I met you, so what difference does it make?"

This was as close as we'd come to discussing the future, and it sure sounded like he wanted me in his. Did I want him in mine? Without a doubt. Not a single doubt.

"Edward." It passed my lips in a whisper.

"Say it again."

"Edward."

"Come here."

Jonathan joined me in the kitchen late Wednesday morning as I was putting together lunch. I turned down the radio so that we could talk more easily.

"I feel so bad that you're doing all this cooking. Are you sure we can't help out?"

"No, it's okay, Jonathan, but thanks for offering. This is actually the first week I feel like I'm earning my salary. Your brother pays me way too much."

"Does he now."

"Yes. He's very generous."

"So when did you two meet?"

"When I interviewed for the job back in mid-May, so just over two months ago, I guess."

"That's all?"

"Yep. Why?"

"I don't know. You two just seem like you've been together longer somehow."

"Well, we've been pretty inseparable since I moved in, except when he's working, or I'm working, and sometimes not even then. He plays the piano while I'm cleaning the library."

"He does?"

"Why do you sound so surprised?"

Jonathan had the same mannerism of running his hand through his hair as his older brother. I tossed the pasta salad I was making while I waited to see if it signified the same uneasiness.

"It's just that last year he refused to play for us. He said he didn't play at all any more and was even thinking of selling his piano."

"I'm so glad he didn't."

"He was so good, growing up, Bella. He was the only one of us with any musical talent, and we all thought he had a gift, our mother, especially."

"He told me that he used to give her trouble about practicing."

"I never heard any. She used to drop whatever she was doing and just sit and listen when he played."

"Were they very close?"

"Very. He inherited her creativity and love of art. They were a lot alike. Does he talk about her very much?"

"No, not really."

"That doesn't surprise me."

"I know that your parents passed away. I'm so sorry about that."

"Yeah, that was rough. They were killed by a drunk driver. On the one hand, it was instant so they didn't suffer, but on the other, our lives were turned upside down in a second."

"I can't even imagine how hard that must have been for you. How old were you when it happened?"

"I was seventeen, still in high school. Robert was a sophomore in college and Edward was a senior."

I shook my head, thinking that I'd be a senior next year. "What a horrible age to lose your parents, not that there's ever a good age."

"Edward actually took it the hardest. Maybe because he was the oldest, I don't know."

I went to work on the macaroni and cheese I was making for the kids. "He told me that he dropped out of school after that."

"Yeah, that's what I mean. He and our father had argued for months about whether or not he could go to art school instead of something more practical like our father wanted. I can still remember hearing them yell at each other, no one had ever raised their voices like that in our house. It was Mom who finally convinced our dad to let him go. And then after they died, he just quit when he only had one semester to go before graduating."

"Poor Edward." I wished I could go back in time and comfort him.

"Things were really bad between him and our father that year, too. Edward had met someone at school, a girl. He brought her home for Thanksgiving. I thought she was really nice, but I guess Dad didn't approve of her. He could be really old-fashioned about social status. I never knew all the details, just that Edward refused to come home over the winter break that year, and that it had to do with Jill, I think her name was. My parents were killed in February, and Edward and our father hadn't reconciled yet."

"That's terrible. He told me about her, but not the part about your dad."

"I should probably let him tell you this stuff. He knows more about it than I do, obviously."

I pulled some servings plates out and started setting out the pasta dishes.

"No, I'm glad you told me. He doesn't talk about his past very much and I don't like to pry, so there's still a lot I don't know about him."

"Like what? I'll answer one question if I can have a piece of that cheese."

"Deal." I smiled and handed him a slice of fresh mozzarella and thought for a moment. What was something I could ask that Jonathan wouldn't feel was too personal?

"Do you know why he moved here? I mean, I know he got a job with Noble, but he could have worked anywhere, I imagine. I've wondered if there was a particular reason he chose here."

"I think it was more about leaving the States. He'd had another relationship end on bad terms and we all figured he just wanted to get away."

"Ah."

"We've actually been somewhat worried about him, Robert and I. We thought he'd decided to become a hermit. After our last visit, we were convinced of it, in fact."

I turned on the broiler and started assembling the open-faced sandwiches.

"Do you still think that?"

He looked around the kitchen, his gaze finally settling on the radio.

"Bella, I haven't seen him this happy since before our parents died. This house was like a funeral home last time we were here. I can't believe how different it feels now." He gestured to the radio. "Like people actually live here."

I laughed a little. "It couldn't have been that bad, surely."

He smiled at me, his eyes twinkling in the corners just like Mr. Cullen's. "Trust me. It was."

I opened the oven door and slid the sandwiches in just as Robert and two of the children came in.

"Hi there," I said to Robert. "Lunch is about 5 minutes away. Are you guys hungry?" I leaned down to the kids. Matthew was Robert's 5 year old, and Janie was Jonathan's 4 year old. Janie ran up to her dad and grabbed his leg instead of answering me, but Matthew said, "Bella, I'm sooo hungry."

"I hope you like macaroni and cheese."

"That's my favorite next to spaghetti."

"Good, because I made you tons of it, and I'll make spaghetti tomorrow, okay?"

It wasn't long before the kitchen was full, everyone filling their plates and getting their drinks before heading into the dining-room. Mr. Cullen and Cecilia arrived last, laughing as they entered.

"Edward, I refuse to believe that. You're making it up."

"Just ask Miss Swan, she'll tell you." He smiled as he approached me, leaning down to kiss my cheek.

"Tell her what, Mr. Cullen?" I smiled up at him.

"Cecilia doesn't believe that sometimes I come down early and help you cook dinner."

I turned to face Cecilia. "Oh, he does. He's coming along very well as my sous chef, shows a lot of promise."

She shook her head as she fixed her plate. "I'll have to see it to believe it. The one thing we all know about Edward is that he hates to cook. These sandwiches look fantastic, by the way. Is this basil?"

"Yep."

She grabbed a drink and headed into the dining-room, leaving me and Mr. Cullen alone in the kitchen. The second the door was closed behind her, Mr. Cullen pulled me into his arms and gave me a real kiss, which I returned with enthusiasm, running my hands up into his hair and hugging him tightly.

A few minutes later, we took our plates into the dining-room. I saw Robert glance at his brother's messed up hair and then smile down into his plate. I smoothed my own hair as Mr. Cullen held my chair out, and we all dug into lunch. I'd gotten over my reservations about feeling too young, and the conversation flowed easily as we discussed what to do that afternoon. Robert and Joanne wanted to take their kids out to the beach, but Jonathan and Cecilia were pushing for a day trip to LaPorte. Mr. Cullen declared himself neutral, so Joanne asked me to cast the deciding vote.

"Well, since LaPorte is on the coast, you guys -" I gestured to Robert and Joanne, "can hit the beach down there, while you two -" I nodded to Jonathan and Cecilia - "can see the town. Mr. Cullen can do whichever he prefers."

"Good answer, Bella," said Robert. "But which would you prefer?"

"Me? I'll be staying here getting dinner ready."

"No, Miss Swan, come with us today. It's too far to go just to turn around and hurry back for dinner. I'll take everyone out to Grand's tonight." Mr. Cullen raised his eyebrows at me while he took a bite of his sandwich. "This is delicious, by the way."

"Okay, sure, it'll be fun."

It was fun. Mr. Cullen and I spent an hour on the beach with Jonathan's family, where I finally got Janie to talk to me as I helped her build a sandcastle. Then we met up with Robert and Joanne to do some sightseeing in town. Matthew ran up to me when he saw us coming, and yelled, "Aunt Bella!" I looked up at Mr. Cullen, asking him with my expression if I should say anything, but he just shrugged and smiled.

"He likes you." He put his arm around my waist and pulled me into him. "And who can blame him?"

The rest of the visit went too fast. Joanne had almost majored in anthropology before deciding on pre-law, so she and I spent some time talking about my classes and the program at Noble. We sat in the library together most of Saturday morning laughing about the most absurd things our professors had asked of us. I had a great story about one who made us put on blindfolds and then touch aboriginal masks so that "we would really know," but she topped me with a professor who'd played a recording of pygmy voices for three hours.

"The first fifteen minutes were interesting, sure, but he sat there the whole time like he was having a religious experience. Three hours, Bella, that's all I'm saying."

I could picture it perfectly and laughed so hard I had to wipe my eyes as I recovered.

"So, Bella, I have a question."

"What?"

"What's with all this Miss Swan/Mr. Cullen stuff you two do? The almost-anthropologist in me is dying to know."

"Well, that's how we addressed each other when I started working for him and I guess it's just carried over."

"It seems so formal, like there's a certain distance between the two of you."

I thought about that for a minute, thought about our dinners, thought about when he used my first name and what it did to me when he did.

"I like it when he calls me Miss Swan." I gave her a knowing look. "He uses my first name sometimes."

She totally got it. "Oh. I see. Nice."

"Yes, very."

"I've been married to Robert for six years and still don't know Edward all that well. The first time I met him was at our wedding, and he struck me as kind of a wreck, to be honest. I found out later that his current relationship had just blown up, that she was cheating on him and was only with him for his money. He moved here shortly thereafter, so this is probably the fifth time I've seen him. But, Bella," she sat up in her chair and leaned toward me, "he's a completely different person this time. I finally see the Edward that Robert's always told me about."

I didn't know what to say so I didn't say anything.

"You're good for him, that's obvious. But is he good for you?"

Her question was genuine, not patronizing at all. It felt like I was talking to an older sister, someone who really cared about me. She reminded me a lot of Alice at that moment.

"He is. I know what you mean about how he's changed. He was intimidating when I first met him, and so authoritative he scared me a little. But it was just a show, just a defense. Once I started getting to know him I found out he's the kindest, gentlest, most thoughtful man I've ever known. All he thinks about now is ways to make me happy."

"Good. Robert thinks you might be too young for him, but I think you balance each other out. You give him life and he gives you … what?"

"Is this a lawyer's trick? I'm not on the stand, am I?" I laughed a little.

"No, Bella, I'm just curious. What are you getting out of this?"

"I don't think I can answer that in one word. My mom left us when I two and my dad raised me more as a fishing buddy than a daughter. This is the first time in my life that I've felt like someone really needs me. He makes me feel indispensable. I've never had that feeling before."

"Are you in love with him?"

I nodded and smiled. "Yes."

"I thought so. He loves you, too, I can tell." She smiled back at me, and started to rise. "I should go find out what the kids are up to." She patted my shoulder. "Let me know if you want me to draw up a pre-nup."

"What?"

"I'm just saying." She winked at me. "I'll do it for free."

That night after dinner we gravitated back to the library. It was the last night of the visit and everyone seemed in the mood to stay together. There weren't enough chairs for everyone so Mr. Cullen sat on the piano bench and I gave him a little wink as I knelt on the floor nearby with the kids. Matthew went to examine the piano and I heard him ask Mr. Cullen to play a song; after he'd played a couple of Matthew's favorites, I suggested a game of musical chairs. Robert and Jonathan brought up some chairs from the dining room, and Cecilia, Joanne and I joined in with the children. After a particularly fierce round I lost my seat to Janie and left the game to stand by Jonathan. We watched the rest of the game together, my eyes mostly on Mr. Cullen as he deliberately paced his playing to the kids' advantage. The room was full of music and laughter.

"This is what I was talking about, Bella." Jonathan looked up at me as I perched on the arm of his chair. "This never would have happened last year. Or the year before that."

I smiled down to him. "I'm glad the children are having fun. I hope they enjoyed their visit."

"I'm glad my brother is having fun."

We both watched Edward slowly drawing out the final chords as Janie and Matthew circled the last chair, a wide smile on his face, looking so different from the first time I'd met him. "Yeah, me too."

Sunday morning we said our goodbyes shortly after brunch. I got hugs from everyone, even Janie, and offers to stay any time I wanted with Jonathan in Chicago and Robert in Philadelphia. We waved from the front door as their cars headed down the driveway.

"Well, Mr. Cullen, you survived." I followed him into the living room, where he sat on the couch, pulling me onto his lap.

"That was actually the best time I've had with them. The kids are getting older and more fun."

"Those children are adorable. It's so nice to be able to put names with faces on all the photos in our room. Is Matthew the one on the swing?"

"Yep. He was two then, I think."

"He was so blond."

"I know. When Robert sent me that photo, I called him and asked if he was sure Matthew was his."

I gave him a light slap on his arm. "You."

Mr. Cullen chuckled and laid his head back, closing his eyes. I rested my head on his shoulder and we sat together, enjoying the silence.

"You got along okay with everyone?" He asked me after a while.

"Yeah, everyone was great. Your brothers are both really nice. You three are so alike, but different in little ways."

"How so?"

"Well, Jonathan's the most boyish, which I guess makes sense since he's the youngest. Robert comes off much older, sometimes as if he's the oldest brother instead of you."

I felt Mr. Cullen kiss the top of my head. "That's probably my fault. I kind of abandoned them for a while after our parents died. Robert had to take care of settling the estate, take care of Jonathan."

"Jonathan told me a little about that."

"What did he say?"

"Just that you quit school, and that you'd argued with your father over your girlfriend and hadn't reconciled before he died." I tightened my arm around his chest in a half-hug.

"My father and I never saw eye-to-eye on anything. Maybe because I was the oldest, he kept trying to steer me in directions I didn't want to go. Half the reason I wanted to go to art school so badly was because I knew he didn't approve. After he died, it just didn't matter to me anymore."

I looked up at him and ran a finger along his jaw.

"My mother was probably my best friend growing up. Losing her was the hardest thing I've ever gone through. They left me all their artwork in their will and I felt like my father forgave me for all our arguments by doing that, but I couldn't forgive myself for not going home that last Christmas. The last time I talked to my mother, she called to ask me to please come, but I was short with her, taking out my anger with my father." He shook his head, clearly still pained at the memory, and sighed. "Jill broke up with me and then my mother died … it just seemed like I wasn't meant to hold on to anything good."

He hugged me tighter, not even aware of doing so. I thought about how he must have felt but was unable to imagine losing my dad and someone I thought I loved at the same time. I swore to myself as I burrowed my face into his chest that I'd never do anything to hurt him.

We were silent for a long while and then I lifted my head. "Mr. Cullen?"

"Yes?"

"Joanne told me a little about your last girlfriend. Can I ask what happened?"

He ran his hand up and down my back. "My last girlfriend was Susan. We met at a bar in New York City and she seemed like everything my father would have approved of. She came from a very good family and was already a successful editor. I'd been trying to turn my life around. I'd finished college and was in grad school when we met. I'd figured that since living like a wastrel for several years hadn't made me happy, I'd try to do things my dad's way." He sighed and moved his hand up into my hair. "I liked her, she liked me, and it wasn't long before we were living together and I was thinking of proposing. I didn't love her, but it felt like the right thing to do. I could see a future together and it seemed like an easy route to a stable life, something my father had always preached was more important than anything." He went silent again, still running his fingers through my hair. "The rest of it's an old story, often told. One of my classes was canceled and I came home early to find her with another man. We fought. We broke up. The end."

I fingered a button on his shirt. "Joanne said she was only with you for your money."

"I found out later that she'd been dipping into my savings account. I guess her lifestyle went above her editor's pay and she didn't want to ask her family for money. I would have given her anything if she'd asked, but she chose to go behind my back."

"You need to learn how to use passwords." I thought of how easily I'd gotten onto his wireless network.

He snorted. "I suppose I do. I trusted her, though, and I shouldn't have. After we split, I just gave up. I'd lost my mom, Jill, and now Susan. Everything in life just seemed to be out of my control, whether I lived like a vagabond artist or an upstanding professional, it didn't seem to make any difference."

"And that's when you moved here?"

"Yes, within about six months. I didn't care where I went, I just wanted to get away. I guess I'm a runner. I ran after my parents died and I ran after things fell apart with Susan." He kissed my head again.

"You shouldn't see yourself as running away, you could be running forward, toward something better."

He pulled me to him. "Maybe you're right."

We were silent again.

"Maybe that's where my need for obedience comes from. When I moved here and hired my first housekeeper, I could finally tell someone exactly what I wanted them to do, and they'd do it."

"You were alone and unhappy."

"Yes. Very. The only respite was my brothers' visits in the summer, and even those chafed at me. I wanted the silence back, the control. I wanted them to come but I couldn't wait until they left. I'm sure I was a very engaging host." He laughed a little, then reached down and turned my face up to his.

"Bella, I'm so messed up. What in God's name do you see in me?"

"You're not messed up, Edward, just a little scarred." I looked into his eyes and said the only thing I could. "And what I see in you is beautiful."

**A/N: Sorry for no a/n yesterday – I literally had a ten second window of opportunity to post and couldn't think of anything to say, hoping the chapter spoke for itself. I'd written a couple of porny chapters I was working with but they did nothing to help the plot – muddled it up in fact - so I decided it was best to move things along. And there's just no way I can do a whole summer of dinners! BUT, there are a few more dinners coming up.**

**One reviewer said I've been nominated for a Shimmer Award as Best New Author? If it's true, I can't even begin to tell you what that means to me. I knew I could put together a sentence, a paragraph, a chapter, but a whole story? - I was hoping to achieve that, and your validations have meant everything to me. I know I sound like a broken record, but_ thank you all so much._**

**Anyway, hope you liked this chapter. kts.**


	22. Chapter 22

Chapter 22

"Good evening, Mr. Cullen," I said as I pushed through the dining-room door the next evening at six.

"Miss Swan." He was leaning against the sideboard, his long legs crossed in front of him.

I put his first course down and went up to him for my kiss. He reached behind me and untied my apron, lifting it over my head and putting it on the sideboard behind him, bending down to kiss me, holding me to him tightly, working his way down to my throat. "What would the most beautiful housekeeper in the world recommend to drink tonight?"

"A white, something fruity but dry, Italian if possible," I whispered, the effect he had on me as potent as the first time he'd kissed me.

"I'll be right back." He let me go and headed for the wine cellar, giving me a smile on his way out. I could tell he'd missed our dinners last week, and I had too. I slipped off my shoes and lowered the zipper of my dress a few inches, waiting next to my chair for his return.

"I hope a pinot grigio will do," he said, walking quickly back into the room with a bottle and the opener.

"That should be perfect."

He pulled my chair out for me, poured two glasses of wine and took his seat.

"What have we here?"

"Steamed mussels, sir. I was hoping to serve oysters but Southbay's didn't have any."

He reached up to cup my neck, his fingers dipping under my necklace. "Please don't tell me you went to extra effort tonight after all the cooking you did last week."

"You deserve a special meal, sir, after having your peace disrupted."

"But I had fun. You're the one who did all the work."

"Finally earned my salary, you mean."

He shook his head a little and smiled. "I could pay you ten times what I do, and it wouldn't come close to fair compensation." He turned back to his plate. "Now, tell me what's in this sauce. It smells incredible."

The rest of the meal passed slowly. I kept my right hand on his leg through most the meal, reaching over occasionally to rub my bare foot on his shin. He praised the lobster fra diavolo, leaning over to kiss me between bites.

"This is unbelievable. Did you cook the lobster yourself?"

"No, I'm still not ready to try that. Mike offered to boil it at the store or you'd be having prawns right now instead."

"That would have been just as good, Miss Swan. Really, you do too much." He offered me a piece of lobster with his fingers, which I licked clean.

"Mmm, that is good."

"It's perfect. Just the right amount of spice." He swirled some linguine around his fork and offered it to me. He watched my mouth close over the fork and his eyes narrowed. "In fact, the only way this meal could be improved is if I could eat it off your naked body."

My eyebrows shot up and I could feel myself beginning to color. Our dinners had been evolving, but did he really think I was going to let him do that?

Suddenly his face broke into a smirk and he ran his thumb over my cheek. "I'm just kidding, Miss Swan, but I must say I'm happy I can still make you blush."

I swallowed my pasta and feigned indignation. "Enjoy my blush while it lasts, Mr. Cullen. That's the last time I fall for one of your jokes."

"We'll see about that," he laughed.

I rubbed my foot on his leg. "I'm glad I can still make you smile."

"That will never change, my perfect girl."

August was a blur of hot days, warm nights, and long, long dinners. Mr. Cullen and I couldn't seem to get enough of each other, our lust as unabated as it had been in June, maybe even greater. We didn't talk about what would happen in the fall if I didn't get accepted at Noble, nor what we'd do if I did. I couldn't stay here if I wasn't enrolled as a student, so I knew if Noble didn't accept me, I'd have to go home. I didn't like to think about that, so I didn't.

I did, however, think about what would happen if I was accepted. I wanted to continue living with Mr. Cullen, and was pretty sure he'd ask me to stay, as he told me almost daily how much I meant to him. The problem was the absurd amount of money he gave me each week. I wanted to tell him he didn't have to pay me any more, that I wasn't with him because of his financial generosity. Knowing what I did now about his last relationship, I was even more determined that he couldn't keep paying me. I was praying that if Noble accepted me, they'd also offer me enough financial aid that I could tell Mr. Cullen his payments had to end. I'd be glad to do his housework and serve him dinner for nothing, in exchange for letting me stay with him.

If I didn't get enough financial aid, I had no idea what I'd do. I just couldn't allow Mr. Cullen to pay my tuition, which is basically what he'd be doing. I could get a job elsewhere, but the thought of being in school, getting a job in town, and still keeping up with my duties here seemed like too much to shoulder. The thought of him hiring a new housekeeper was out of the question.

Even Alice couldn't help me come up with a solution. We went away to the beach for a weekend where we laid in the sun, drank margaritas, and mulled it over together.

"Why don't you want him to keep paying you? Doesn't that solve everything?"

"It does financially, but I don't want him to think I'm with him for his money. Plus it makes me feel like a kept woman. I mean, come on, he's giving me free and board already, and now I let him pay for college, too? I'd look like a gold-digger. And he'd finally look like a sugar daddy."

"All that matters is what the two of you think, not anyone else's opinion."

"I know, I know, but I also don't like putting myself in such a dependent position. I've always taken care of myself, you know? If I let him keep paying me, I feel like I'm giving away some of my independence, my self-sufficiency."

"What if he hired a housekeeper just to do the cleaning, and you're home in time to make his dinners?"

"That might work, but I really don't like the idea of someone else doing my job." I really, really didn't like the idea.

"Does he need to hire a housekeeper at all? Is he that much of a pig?"

I laughed. "No, he's really neat. Lots of days I just go through the motions of cleaning his clean house."

"Well, you two will work it out. You're happy together, that's the important thing. Don't worry about stuff that hasn't happened yet."

I sighed. "You're right. I don't know why I'm getting myself upset over this."

"Because you love him, and you want to have an equal-sided relationship."

"Yes. That's it exactly, Alice."

"So when do you hear back from Noble?"

"I sent in what they call an expedited application, so hopefully in a week or so."

"That doesn't give you much time, one way or the other."

"Nope. I'll have about two weeks before I either go home or start school."

"Bella, it will all work out. I know it will. Things just do." She looked over at me and gave me a reassuring smile.

I lifted my margarita glass to hers and clinked it. "Here's to things working out."

When I got home Sunday night, Mr. Cullen waited at the front door while Alice and I said our good-byes. He and Alice waved to each other as she left and he took my bag from me as I met him at the door, gesturing for me to enter the house first. I was on the second stair, just about to turn around and start telling him about my weekend when I heard the bag drop to the floor. He was behind me the next instant, throwing one arm high around my waist, one across my hips, easily lifting me off my feet and pulling me tightly against him.

He carried me into the living room and spun me onto the couch, not even giving me time to stop bouncing before he was on top of me. He kissed me like a starving man given a meal, like we'd been apart for months instead of days.

"You can't leave me again." He groaned into my mouth, his first words to me. "Ever."

His urgency lit my own. "Never," I mumbled, tightening my arms around his shoulders. "Promise," he growled into my neck, pressing me down with his chest, his hands running down my legs, pulling them up around his hips. "I promise I'll never leave you. I love you." The words were out my mouth before I realized it, but I didn't care anymore. It was true.

"Say it again." His frantic movements had come to a sudden halt, his face still buried in my neck.

"I love you."

"Again." He pressed into me.

"I love you, Mr. Cullen. I love you, sir. I love you, Edward. I love you. I love you." Now that it was out, I couldn't stop saying it. "I love you."

He didn't move for a long time. I felt his body weight on mine, heard him breathing in my ear, as I waited for him to say the words back.

"Bella." It came out like a sigh.

I didn't answer, just held my head against his. He was silent for several moments, his hand coming up to gently stroke the other side of my neck, his weight shifting a little to the side. Finally he turned his head so that he was facing me and kissed my jaw and my ear, caressing my neck for another minute before he spoke.

"That first night you worked here late, I couldn't sleep and heard you tiptoe in at two. When I came in to check on you, you were sound asleep. You looked so exhausted, so fragile, so beautiful. I'd never felt such an urge to protect someone."

I tightened my arms around him.

"I thought when I asked you to move in, that I could keep my distance. But that day in the library when you were laying there in front of me, barefooted, I knew I wanted you." He lifted his head, bringing his arm up to prop it on his elbow, looking at me a little sadly. "I felt so bad for wanting you. Here I'd dressed you up in a uniform, made you serve me dinner, had you scurrying around the house at my command. But then you threatened to hurt me," his expression turned into a smile, "and I realized you were more than capable of holding your own."

I smiled, encouraging him silently to go on.

"The afternoon I went to Arnold's, when I passed through the jewelry section, I was suddenly overwhelmed by how much you meant to me. I wanted to buy you the whole store."

He ran a finger down my throat, then traced slowly back and forth over the dip of my collarbone.

"I still didn't think it was right. I wanted you so much but I didn't want to want you. I didn't see how I could possibly be good for you."

I held his gaze while he cupped my cheek, his fingers slipping into my hair.

"It was the morning you were sunbathing that I finally gave up fighting it. You looked so happy and relaxed. I realized that being here made you happy, that maybe I made you happy."

I nodded and brought a hand up to circle his wrist, running my fingers over the light hair on his forearm.

"I think I fell in love with you that night when I helped you fix dinner, but seeing how hard you worked made me hesitate again. All I could think about was how much you do for me and how little I could give you in return." He paused again, his thumb rubbing lightly back and forth over my bottom lip. "The day you came running into my office and said you wanted me, though, that's when I knew I loved you already, that I'd loved you for some time."

He dipped his head down and kissed my forehead, my eyelids, my nose, my lips. I squeezed him tightly with my legs. "You won't leave me this fall. You'll stay with me." I nodded again. I already knew I wouldn't leave him if I got accepted.

"But, sir -"

His face broke into a small smile.

"What if I don't get accepted? I can't stay here when my visa expires."

"I'll come back to the States with you."

"You will?"

"I can work from anywhere, almost everything I do is online."

"You'd leave here, this house, for me?"

"Anything for you, my very, very dearest Miss Swan." He kissed me again. "It'd be like running away together."

I reached up this time to kiss him, hard, as hard as I could.

"But don't worry, you'll get in."

"How can you be so sure?"

He shook his head. "I just can't imagine anyone not wanting you, my perfect girl." He nuzzled my neck and lifted an arm to run his hand up and down my leg. "Now let's get you upstairs so I can welcome you home properly."

"No."

"No?" He lifted his head with his eyebrows raised.

"Here." I tightened my legs again.

"Here?" A slow smile drew across his mouth.

"Switch places." I rolled him off of me, pushed him down on his back, and climbed on top of him, straddling his hips. I sat up, running my hands over his chest.

"You, my dear Mr. Cullen, intimidated me when I met you." I leaned down and touched my mouth barely to his, not kissing him, just feeling his lips with mine. "I thought you were so handsome," I whispered, "but scary and mysterious." I started slowly unbuttoning his shirt. "The whole first week I worked here I tiptoed everywhere, afraid you'd hear me." I kissed his beautiful jaw with my mouth open, savoring the feel of his scruff under my lips. His hands were slowly moving from my rear down my thighs and back again.

"I knew I wanted you the night you fed me some mousse. It felt like you'd kissed me, and I wanted you to kiss me." I had his shirt unbuttoned and he sat up enough that I could pull it off him. He reached for the hem of my t-shirt and pulled it over my head. I undid my bra and dropped it to the floor. His hands came up from my waist to cup my breasts, his expression one of almost worship. I slowly unclasped his belt, my hands a little shaky as his fingers worked their magic on my nipples.

I scooted back just far enough to pull his pants and boxers down. I licked the length of his penis as I crawled back up his body, lightly drawing my naked chest up along his, until I was back to his face. His eyes were closed and he was breathing heavily. I loved having this effect on him, it drove me wild, the best aphrodisiac in the world. I licked his earlobe and whispered, "I fell in love with you the first time I heard you play the piano." I kissed and licked the sensitive spot I knew he had just under his ear. "I fell in love with you the first time I heard you laugh." I rubbed my chest lightly on his, letting him feel my erect nipples. "I fell in love with you the first time you fed me with your fingers." I pressed myself down on his erection. "I fell in love with you the first time you called me your princess." I pulled up and kissed him deeply, my hands tugging in his hair, angling his head so I could kiss him even more deeply. "I fell in love with you the first night you carried me to bed."

His eyes were still closed, but his hands began frantically working at the waistband of my shorts. I got up just long enough to yank them off along with my panties, and straddled him again, sitting up and taking his erection in my hands. I stroked him lightly, watching his head push back into the cushion and his mouth open in a quiet groan. I raised myself up and slowly lowered myself onto him, an inch at a time. "I fell in love you almost immediately, Edward." I couldn't talk any more, the wonderful sensation of him filling me all I could focus on. Would I never get over how amazing he felt? I pulled myself up until he was almost out of me, then slowly eased back down again. He grabbed onto my hips, and held me to him tightly, pressing his hips up to mine, pushing himself into me as deeply as he could. It was my turn to groan.

He opened his eyes and pulled me down to him, one hand on my back, the other on my ass, squeezing and pushing me down harder. He began thrusting up into me, already hitting that perfect spot, already sending tremors through my body, making my legs start to shake.

"Oh, Edward," I moaned, "oh, please, oh, please!"

"God, Bella," he growled and he pulled me into him even tighter, thrust even harder, and we both fell apart within minutes.

I lay on top of him as we recovered. I loved these moments so much, listening to his heavy breaths, his pounding heartbeat, feeling his hands tenderly tracing over my body, my hair. I could lay here on top of him forever. I never wanted to get up.

"I'm never getting up. I'm going to lay here forever."

I felt him chuckle. "I forbid you from ever getting up."

"So bossy."

"I am."

"I don't mind." I found the strength to raise up on my arms and looked down into his eyes. He looked so content, so young that I could almost see the boy in him. "But I don't want you to be my boss any more."

"What?"

"I can't take money from you any more. It isn't right. If I get accepted at Noble, you have to stop paying me."

"But you'll need an income."

I lowered myself back down and ran my fingers over his chest.

"I'll figure something out."

"We'll figure something out." He hugged me. I loved the feel of his arms around me. I felt so safe, so cherished.

"I love your arms around me."

"I love my arms around you, too."

**A/N: Only one more chapter after this. I feel surprisingly sad about that but I'm also greatly relieved that I got this done and posted before a big vacation coming up - I would have felt awful leaving for two weeks so close to the end after updating daily. Thanks again to all you kind readers and reviewers out there ... kts.**


	23. Chapter 23

Chapter 23

The letter from Noble arrived with the Friday morning mail. Mr. Cullen watched my face carefully as I opened it, my hands suddenly a little shaky. I scanned it as quickly as I could. I was accepted, but minus the financial aid I needed to quit working.

"Good news?"

"I'm in." I smiled up at him.

"That's my girl." He picked me up in a hug, lifting me off the floor. "Congratulations."

"Thank you." I couldn't believe that my plan had actually worked, that I'd managed to become a regular student at Noble. This was a big deal, and I knew it. I clung to Mr. Cullen's shoulders as the reality of it began to sink in.

"But I didn't get the financial aid I was hoping for."

"We'll work it out. The important thing is that you got in." He put me down and kissed my forehead. "We should celebrate. Let's go away this weekend."

"All right. Where do you want go?"

"How far up the coast have you traveled?"

"Just to Bijoux with Alice."

"I know a place further north. I'll see if I can get us a room." He let me go, a wide smile on his face. He was probably more than a little relieved that he didn't have to move this fall. I was, too.

"I'm going to call my dad."

"I think you should." We went upstairs together, Mr. Cullen turning into his office and me heading up to our room where I'd left my phone on my nightstand. I hit the speed dial number, trying to figure out what time it was on the west coast while it rang. I hoped I wasn't calling in the middle of the night.

"Bella?" My dad answered, sounding perfectly awake. "Everything all right?"

"Everything's great, dad. I just got accepted into Noble this fall and wanted to tell you in person."

"Bella, that's wonderful. I knew you could do it."

"Thanks. I'm so excited. I still can't quite believe it."

"You deserve it, honey. So when do your classes start?"

"In two weeks."

"Huh. I was hoping you could come home for a short visit before then."

"I don't think I'll have time, dad, but I wish I could too. I miss you."

"I miss you, too, sweetheart. Let me know your new address when you move back to campus and I'll send you some fish jerky. It turned out great this year."

"No, that's okay, no need to go to any trouble," I laughed. We had a long-running joke about the jerky he made every summer. He loved it. I did not. "Actually, dad, I'm not moving back on campus. I'm going to stay here for the rest of the year."

"At Mr. Cullen's?" I'd eventually told him over emails that I was living in my boss's house, but that was all he knew.

"Yeah, dad, we've, um, we've fallen in love."

"Really."

"Really."

"Isn't he a lot older than you?"

"He's only thirty-four, dad. He's not old."

"Is he there? Can I speak with him?"

Oh-oh. "Sure, I guess. Let me go find him."

I trotted downstairs to the office and handed Mr. Cullen the phone with a small grimace. "My dad wants to talk to you."

He gave me a reassuring smile as he lifted the phone to his ear. "Hello, Mr. Swan, this is Edward Cullen. Yes, sir. Of course. She is. I promise, Mr. Swan." I sat myself on his lap, listening to his side of the conversation. He put his free hand on my hip and looked into my eyes as he talked to my dad. "Her safety and happiness mean everything to me, Mr. Swan. No, sir. I'd like that very much. Yes, she's right here. Goodbye, Mr. Swan." He handed the phone back to me.

"Dad?"

"All right, Bella. He seems okay. You know you can call me any time, though, right?"

"Of course I do."

"Congratulations, Bella. I mean that. I'm proud of you, sweetheart."

"Thanks, dad."

"Bye."

"Bye."

I closed my phone, put it on the desk, and put both my arms around Mr. Cullen's neck. "It sounds like you passed the paternal approval test."

"Yep, it's a big day for me, too. And I've been invited to come home with you next time you visit and go fishing."

"Wow, I'm impressed."

"You won't be for long. I have no idea how to fish. I'll probably fall off the boat."

I laughed and hugged him. "I should call Alice, too."

"All right. Off you go." He helped me stand. "So, I was able to get us a room. How about we leave after lunch and take our time driving up?"

"Sounds great. Do I need to pack anything special?"

He shook his head and gave me a little smirk. "If it were up to me, you wouldn't pack anything at all."

"Mr. Cullen, for shame. I'm calling my dad back right now."

"Good luck with that. I'm his new fishing buddy. He's on my side now."

The drive up the coast was lovely. We stopped on the way in one little town and had coffee, and then in another for dinner. Mr. Cullen was taking me up to North Beach, a resort area famous for its beaches on one side and its mountains on the other. I expected him to pull up to any one of the large hotels we passed when we got there, but he continued driving until we were out of town, finally turning into the driveway of a small cabin that said "North Beach Rentals" on its front door. I waited in the car while he went in to get the key, and five minutes later we were parking in front of our own private cottage.

"I thought you were getting a room somewhere, Mr. Cullen, not our own cabin."

"I imagine there are rooms inside. If not, I'll call the manager to complain."

"Now who's doing the spoiling?" I asked teasingly.

"Get used to it, princess." He helped me out of the car, collected our bags, unlocked the cabin door and ushered me inside. We made love that night with abandon, both of us reveling in the knowledge that we'd be together for another year.

Saturday we walked on the beach, ate a big lunch, and did some sightseeing. The weather was perfect, not too hot, with warm breezes coming off the water. We had dinner at an outdoor cafe, enjoying the darkening sky and cooling air. I ordered a silly beach drink that came with a paper umbrella and Mr. Cullen had a martini, but wrinkled his nose at the first sip. "Nowhere near as good as yours, Miss Swan."

"I should hope not."

He looked at me with affection. "I'm going to miss having you as my housekeeper."

"So what are we going to do?"

"I've been thinking. A lot. About you and what you do for me, and I don't think we should do our dinners any longer."

"No? Why not? I like them."

"Oh, I like them, too, don't get me wrong. But as long as you're waiting on me like you do every night, I agree that I shouldn't be paying you. I imagine you must want me to feel that you're not with me for financial reasons -"

I nodded emphatically and interrupted, "That's exactly it."

"And I want you to know that I'm not with you because of how indulgent you've been with me at dinner."

"I know you're not."

He smiled at me fondly, then picked up my hand and kissed it, holding it as he continued. "Here's how I see the problem. I can't continue our dinners and keep paying you, yet you need an income. Therefore, we stop our dinners, but I'd like it if you continued to cook for me. If I pay you just to do that, if we have normal dinners together and you don't wait on me, would you feel more comfortable about letting me continue to employ you?"

End our dinners? Just fix meals?

"So I'd become your cook, then?"

"I guess so." He smiled at me.

"You'd have to pay me less, that's non-negotiable."

"I'll pay you whatever you say, whatever you need and not another dollar more."

"What about the rest of the housekeeping?"

"We'll split it, like any normal couple."

"It might work."

"Shall we see how it goes?"

"Let's try it."

"Very good."

That night Mr. Cullen's lovemaking was different. He could be dominating in bed, but not usually for very long, and usually only in the heat of passion. This time, as we lay naked together, he lifted my arms over my head and told me to keep my hands on the rungs in the headboard. Then he leaned down and took one of my nipples in his mouth, giving it a gentle bite. I gasped in pleasure.

"Who do these beautiful little pink nipples belong to, Miss Swan?" He asked me a low voice, moving to the other one and flicking it with his tongue before giving it a firm suck.

"You, sir."

"Good girl. And this perfect tiny waist?" He moved lower down my body, circling my waist with his hands, almost able to get his long fingers all the way around me, and bent down to kiss my belly button.

"It's yours, sir."

"That's right. All mine."

"And this beautiful behind?" He asked, reaching underneath me to cup me and lift me off the bed. "Who does this belong to?"

"You, Mr. Cullen."

"No one else?"

"Never, sir."

He put me back down and spread my legs. He ran a finger lightly over my clit. "This is mine."

"Yes, sir," I gasped again.

"This is mine." He eased a finger inside of me and I writhed, my hips bucking up to him of their own volition.

"Oh, Mr. Cullen, yes, it's all yours. I'm all yours."

He looked up me from under his eyebrows as he leaned down and licked me. "You're my delicious, perfect girl, aren't you, Miss Swan?"

I groaned and gripped the headboard as hard as I could as he licked me again. "Yes, Mr. Cullen, yes!"

"Forever?"

"Forever, sir, I promise, forever."

He played me with his mouth and fingers until I could feel my orgasm beginning. He sensed it too and climbed back up my body, kissing his way up to my neck and positioning himself to enter me. "Do you want me, Miss Swan?"

"Yes, I want you!"

"Ask me nicely," he murmured into my neck, his voice still low.

"Please, Mr. Cullen, please," I was gasping again, feeling him just at my entrance, needing him so much. "Oh please, sir, I need you inside of me, please." I pulled him in toward me with my legs.

"Bella," he groaned, thrusting into me with one hard push. "So perfect."

I'd been so close before he entered me that it only took me a minute to reach my climax, which hit hard and fast. I threw my head back and groaned as the first wave of pleasure washed over me, finally letting go of the headboard to cling to his back as I shattered apart. "Edward!"

"Bella … Bella … don't let go of me, don't let go …" He climaxed soon, his breath heavy in my ear, his weight pinning me down. "Mine" he moaned, "mine … " his voice dropping to a whisper.

I cradled his head and ran my other hand over his back, basking in his need to possess me, knowing that it was part of his love for me, part of him. As our relationship continued, I suspected I'd see more of these flashes of possessiveness as he worked out his fear that I too may be something he couldn't hold onto, but I didn't mind one bit. I was his. And he was mine.

September was a lovely month; the air cooled significantly and felt cleaner, crisper, lighter.

Mr. Cullen and I had stopped doing our dinners, as agreed. I still cooked dinners most nights, but we fixed our own plates and sometimes just ate at the island. I even cooked several vegetarian meals, which Mr. Cullen ate with a stoic patience that pleased me no end.

He was really trying. He did the laundry, including mine, and we shared the rest of the tasks, cutting back on a lot of the dusting. I loved watching him vacuum. The first time he did it, I followed him from room to room, finally launching myself on him in the library and having my way with him on my chair. He said if he'd only known it got me so hot, he'd have started a long time ago.

My payments had decreased to the point that I was back on a budget, but that was fine with me. It actually felt more comfortable, more usual. The money I'd earned over the summer went toward my tuition, making a significant dent, meaning I didn't really need much more than spending money.

I renewed my student visa the week after we got home from North Beach, and it wasn't long before my classes started and I was soon caught up again in the press of homework, more homework, ever more homework. I worked at home most nights, preferring to set up my laptop on the island. It soon became my unofficial desk, cluttered with my things during meals. Mr. Cullen finally suggested using my old guest room as an office, so we hauled out the bed and dresser and pulled the desk out to face the windows.

One Saturday afternoon I was struggling through an especially obtuse essay and was growing frustrated by my inability to follow the author's argument. I took my laptop downstairs and found Mr. Cullen in the library, reading a book in his chair. I gave him a smile and knelt down next to him, leaning on his leg. His hand slid into my hair and I closed my eyes, feeling my stress begin to wane immediately. I chuckled a little and Mr. Cullen asked me what was amusing.

"I was just thinking about the first time you asked me to kneel next to you, how weird I thought that was, but how much I liked it."

"I don't know quite what I was thinking that night, just that you looked like you were about to collapse and that I wanted to touch you." He fingers were now drawing patterns on my neck. "I'm lucky you didn't run away screaming."

I chuckled again. "I didn't have the energy." After a moment I added, "I used to wonder if you liked seeing me kneel."

"I did, very much, back when I was fighting my attraction to you." He laughed a little. "If you'd only known some of the thoughts I had about you, you definitely would have run away screaming."

"Maybe. Maybe not," I smiled and leaned a little more into his leg.

"Now I just like having you within reach." His fingers returned to my hair.

"I'm glad you asked me to kneel next to you that first time."

"You are?"

"It was the first time I felt like you saw me as more than an employee, that maybe you were starting to like me a little bit."

"Bella, I liked you the first time I looked at you."

"You did?"

"Your head was turned, you were looking at the Rothko, and I thought I'd never seen a more beautiful neck."

I twisted to look up at him. "My neck?"

"Haven't you noticed how much I love your neck?"

"I guess I haven't."

"Well, now you know my last secret. I absolutely, positively, love your neck. And your hair, and your face, and every other part of you." He leaned down and kissed me, then kissed me again, harder. "Are you working on anything terribly important right now?"

I shook my head.

"Would you like me to carry you upstairs or would you prefer to walk?"

"Carry me."

"Yes, ma'am," he smiled, scooping me up.

Later that night I was putting my homework away in my office and happened to open the closet to find one of my dresses, which I hadn't worn in weeks. I fingered the material, getting an idea.

The first weekend in October, Mr. Cullen brought home take out for dinner on Saturday. That meant Sunday night was my turn.

At 5:30 Mr. Cullen came downstairs as he always now did to see if I needed any help or to carry dishes out to the table. He took one look at me in my dress and apron, my silver necklace, barefoot, and stopped in the doorway.

"Miss Swan. What is this?"

"This, Mr. Cullen, is me on a night off." I went up to him, stretched up on my toes and kissed him. "Is that okay?"

"I thought we weren't going to do this any more." He looked into my eyes, puzzled.

"I'm not officially working tonight, and this is what I want to do. So go get us a nice light red and give me a few more minutes in here?"

His fingers eased around my waist, toying with the apron ties, then slid down my rear. A very slow smile crept across his face. "Okay."

He left for the wine cellar and I busied myself finishing his first course, a butternut squash soup with garlic croutons.

"Good evening, Mr. Cullen," I said, pushing through the door.

"Good evening, Miss Swan."

I placed his bowl in front of him while he rose to pull out my chair. He kissed the top of my head after I was seated, then resumed his seat, pouring us both a glass of wine. I reached for his leg under the table, watching his face as he tried the soup.

"It's delicious. I love it." He reached over to kiss me and whispered onto my lips, "And I love you, Bella."

"I love you, too, Edward."

**A/N: Well, that's it, my dears. I know it started slow and ended rather quickly, but once I had them together it just seemed natural to wrap it up. I gave a lot of thought to having some "big problem" that they had to overcome, but that's been done so many times, and I felt that these characters started out with enough challenges that they deserved a relatively bump-free ending.**

**I want to give one last thank you to everyone who's reviewed and favorited/alerted – especially the early ones, even the ones who were disappointed that this turned into a traditional love story rather than a D/S story. I'd thought about taking it in that direction when I started writing (you wouldn't believe the weird scene I had in my head that prompted this story in the first place) but the more I fleshed out Edward, the nicer he just kept getting. I tried to make him a little weird, but not weird enough that Bella wouldn't fall for him. Plus, frankly, there's no way I could write convincing D/S scenes my first time out of the gate.**

**Some of you asked about the possibility of a sequel. My first reaction is that since most of this story was the build-up, a sequel would be hard to do because there'd be no tension. But I'll think about an epilogue – Noble must have a graduate program, after all.**

**Sorry I didn't have time to respond to your comments, although I did read them all. Now that I'm done obsessively editing and proofreading, if you have any questions or comments feel free to private message me and I'll do my best to get back to you.**

**Thanks again, everyone, so much. - kts.**


	24. Epilogue

Epilogue

Bella was so beautiful, and she didn't even know it. I made a point of telling her at every opportunity, but she still didn't really believe me. I could tell by the dismissive shake of her head, that sassy little eye roll she did and that gorgeous blush that still made a regular appearance across her cheeks.

She was sitting in her chair across from me the library now, working on her laptop, biting her lip and frowning. I wanted to reach over and pull her lip out from under her teeth, smooth the crease between her eyebrows, but I didn't want to interrupt her. She worked so hard. Too hard. Her senior thesis was due in a few weeks and the project was consuming all her free time and energy. I was going to offer to make dinner again tonight, I thought. She had too much else to worry about right now without having to plan and make yet another delicious meal.

Bella's cooking had just gotten better and better, if that was possible. She still put as much effort into her meals as she had when I'd first hired her, but that wasn't why I loved her so much. She could start making frozen pizza every night and I wouldn't care. Okay, maybe a little, but not much.

I put my book down and closed my eyes, resting my head back again the chair, thinking about how much my life had changed in the last year. When I'd hired Bella, I'd truly had no idea that we'd end up here. I'd thought she was so pretty but she was also so young, so young that the thoughts I quickly started having about her almost embarrassed me. I remembered the first time I saw her in her uniform, the color and fit setting off her features perfectly, the instant flare of attraction I'd felt, something I'd never expected to feel again. I hadn't even been aware of how closed down I'd become, so locked away in my loneliness that I'd even forgotten what it felt like to want someone. It wasn't just a physical attraction, though, which is probably why I struggled so much with my desire for her. The first few weeks she worked for me I couldn't get over how sweet she was, how funny, how smart. She deserved someone special, and I'd been so used to snapping out orders, I must have come across as an absolute tyrant. I was so lucky she didn't quit after her first day.

But she hadn't quit, she'd stayed and quickly became the one bright light in my bleak life. When our relationship finally turned physical, I thought I had it all. Finally. But I'd been wrong again, wrong to underestimate this amazing woman. Bella hadn't been in a long-term relationship before and was eager to try new things, exploring her sexuality for the first time. I thanked god almost daily that I was the man who'd somehow gotten lucky enough to share this part of her journey into adulthood. She brought home some lingerie one afternoon, making me sit in on the bed while she modeled for me, knowing she was torturing me and laughing at my distress. Once at dinner she hadn't had time to make dessert and offered herself to me instead, moving my plate aside and perching on the edge of the table, slowly drawing up her skirt. She let me take control when I needed reassurance she was mine. I loved how close I could get her to the brink with only my fingers and lips, not letting her touch me until she was shaking with desire. But just as satisfying were the times she initiated, her desire for me so necessary to me now I couldn't imagine living without it.

But even our physical relationship wasn't the reason I loved her so much. If anything, it was merely an expression of the trust and honesty we shared with each other. The meals and the sex I could live without if I had to – Bella herself, however, had become a fundamental part of me. She'd been right that day in the kitchen when I'd been so worried that starting a relationship with her was somehow overstepping the boundaries. She made me happy. She made me so very, very happy. And I think, I hoped, that I made her happy, too.

"What are you smiling about over there, handsome?"

I opened my eyes and looked at my beautiful girl. "How thankful I am that you're here."

She put her computer on the floor and came to sit on my lap. I wrapped my arms around her and kissed her beautiful long neck, her skin like silk under my lips.

"There's nowhere else I'd rather be, Edward."

"Good." I hugged her tighter. It had taken a long time, but I finally believed her. I'd been so convinced that I had nothing to offer her in return that it had been months before I fully accepted that she loved me as much as I did her. I closed my eyes again and felt her lay her head on my shoulder, her fingers moving gently in my hair.

"How's your paper coming along?"

"Good, I guess. I don't think I'll have to change my thesis at the last minute this time, at least."

I chuckled. "Of course you won't, my beautiful smart girl." I ran my hand over the curve of her hip. "And how goes your application?" Bella had decided to apply to the graduate department at Noble for her master's degree in anthropology, something else I was very, very happy about as it kept us here for another three years. I was glad to put off having to pack up all my books and arranging to have my piano shipped back to the States for as long as possible. Maybe I could talk her into getting her PhD at Noble as well.

"Mmm." She sighed. "I don't know. It's on the back burner right now. I may or may not get it done in time."

"It's not nice to tease me like that. In fact, it's quite naughty of you." I gave the side of her rear a light slap.

She giggled and rubbed her nose on my neck. "Well, really, Edward, you ask me every day."

"I'm becoming an old nag."

"Nag, yes. Old, no. Don't worry, I'll get it done."

"I know. I just want to get it settled." I'd bumped into the dean of the anthropology department on campus a few weeks ago and she'd assured me that Bella was a highly prized student, her application a mere formality, so we weren't as worried this time about her getting accepted. I opened my eyes and looked down into her deep brown ones. She'd told me once how difficult it was for her to keep her thoughts to herself when I looked at her, and I often had the same problem. "I just want to know for sure. It was difficult for me last year when I thought you might only be here for the summer. I didn't think if I let you into my heart that I'd survive having to let you go."

She smiled up at me. "You don't have to worry about that any more."

I didn't worry about her leaving, but I still needed to know that she'd be with me forever. I had a ring already in a drawer in my desk and had been thinking that graduation would be the perfect time to propose, when her dad would be here. I was sure she'd say yes as she whenever she talked about her future I was in it, and the impulse to ask her to marry me was growing stronger every day. Charlie had given me permission to ask her when we'd visited him over the holidays and as graduation grew closer, I spent more and more time daydreaming about our future together. If we were lucky enough to have a family, I hoped our children would have her beautiful eyes, her gentle personality. She would make a wonderful mother, of that I had no doubt.

"What are you thinking about? You look so serious."

I smiled and turned my eyes toward the windows, running my fingers through her hair. I couldn't look at her right now or I'd be asking her to marry me in my next breath. "I wish my mother could have met you. She'd have loved you."

"I wish I could have met her too. You dad, too, for that matter, although maybe he wouldn't have approved of me."

"He would have, not that it would matter." I turned to her again, having gotten myself back under control. I smiled down at my beautiful girl and bent down to kiss her perfect lips. "You're perfect."

**A/N: I surprised myself by coming up with an epilogue this morning. Kind of short, but I wanted to try an EPOV. Thanks again, everyone – now I have to go pack! - kts.**


	25. Recipes!

Hi everyone! Thank you again to everyone who's read and hopefully enjoyed A Slow Boil. I've loved reading your reviews so much, and have been surprised to see how many of you were interested in Bella's cooking. Recently a reviewer asked me if I had any of the recipes I used in the story, and I wrote back that I had some of them (the rest of the dishes I either made up or found online) and would be happy to share. Once I had them typed up, I thought why not post them as a final epilogue for everyone who might be interested in trying them out. None of them are very hard, but I can assure you they're all delicious. Good luck!

**Rhubarb Pie**

4 to 6 cups young, unpeeled, diced rhubarb stalks

¼ cup flour

1¼ to 2 cups sugar, depending on taste (some like their rhubarb pies tarter)

1 tablespoon butter

(1 teaspoon grated orange rind, if desired)

Combine the above and pour into a 9-inch pie pan that's been lined with any unbaked pie crust. Cover the pie with a top crust and seal the edges. Cut vents into the top – I usually do 5 or 6 in a sunburst pattern. If you want a nicely browned crust, brush the top with either milk or a beaten egg, then sprinkle with a bit of sugar.

Bake at 350ºF for 40 to 50 minutes, until the top is browned and juices are oozing out of the vents.

**Leek and Lemon Cream Sauce**

4 tablespoons (½ stick) butter

2 medium leeks, halved, thinly sliced (white and pale green parts only)

3 tablespoons fresh lemon juice

1 cup heavy cream

Melt 2 tablespoons butter in heavy large saucepan over medium-high heat. Add leeks; saute 2 minutes. Reduce heat to low; cover and cook until leeks are very tender, stirring occasionally, about 20 minutes. Increase heat to medium; add lemon juice and stir until liquid evaporates, about 1 minute. Mix in cream. Simmer until slightly reduced, about 2 minutes. Cool slightly. Transfer mixture to blender. Blend until smooth. Strain sauce into same saucepan, pressing on solids to extract as much liquid as possible. Season sauce to taste with salt and pepper. (Sauce can be made 1 day head. Cover and refrigerate.

Note: Bella served this over roasted halibut, which I usually cook as follows: dust a one or two pound filet with salt and pepper, and bake at 400ºF for 25-35 minutes. When it's done, the thickest part of the filet should flake easily with a fork, but not be dry.

**Cornbread Muffins**

Mrs. Whitlock's muffins weren't anything special, but these are the ones Bella would have made. They go great with black bean soup.

1 cup sifted flour

1 cup cornmeal, preferably stone ground

1 tablespoon sifted baking powder

1 teaspoon dried hot red pepper flakes

½ teaspoon salt, if desired

1½ teaspoon ground cumin

2/3 cup sour cream

2/3 cup milk

2 tablespoons melted butter

1 large egg

1/3 cup finely diced hot chilis, preferably poblanos or jalapenos

1/3 cup finely diced scallions

1/3 cup drained canned corn kernels (or fresh, if you can get them)

1¾ cup finely grated sharp Cheddar cheese

Preheat over to 375ºF. In a mixing bowl, combine the flour, cornmeal, baking powder, pepper flakes, salt and cumin, and blend well. In a separate bowl, add the sour cream and milk, and blend well with a wire whisk. Beat in the melted butter and egg.

Add the liquid ingredients to the cornmeal mixture and blend well. Add the chilis, green onions, corn and cheese. Blend thoroughly.

Grease the insides of 8 half-cup muffin tins. Spoon equal portions of the batter into each greased tin. The batter may be a bit higher than the top of the tins. Place in the over and bake 30 minutes. Ideally, these muffins are best eaten hot, fresh from the oven.

**Chocolate Mousse**

More than one reviewer called me out for using cocoa powder in chocolate mousse – and they were absolutely right. I took some license when I wrote that chapter because it seemed to me that Edward would have cocoa but probably not baking chocolate (and I really wanted him to come stand next to her in the pantry). This is the recipe Bella would have made if she had the right ingredients – courtesy of Julia Child.

8 ounces sweet or semisweet baking chocolate, melted with ¼ cup strong coffee

3 ounces (6 tablespoons) softened, unsalted butter

3 egg yolks

1 cup heavy cream

3 egg whites

¼ cup sugar

Optional accompaniment: whipped cream

Beat the soft butter into the smoothly melted chocolate. One by one, beat in the egg yolks.

Beat the cream until it leaves light traces on the surface (a good way to speed up whipping cream is to put the bowl and beaters you're going to use in the freezer for a few minutes before beating).

Beat the egg whites until they form soft peaks. While beating, sprinkle in the sugar by spoonfuls and continue beating until stiff shining peaks are formed.

Scrape the chocolate mixture down the the side of the egg-white bowl, and delicately fold them together. When almost blended fold in the whipped cream.

Turn the mousse into an attractive serving bowl, or into individual cups or containers. Cover and chill several hours. Decorate with whipped cream before serving, or serve whipped cream separately.

**Crab Cakes**

1/3 cup mayonnaise

¾ teaspoon Old Bay seasoning

6 ounces crabmeat, about 1 cup

2/3 cup saltine crackers (about 16 crackers)

¼ cup minced scallions

¼ cup minced red pepper

Mix mayonnaise and seasoning in medium bowl. Add crabmeat, 1/3 cup cracker crumbs, green onions and red peppers. Mix carefully to avoid breaking up crabmeat. Form mixture into four 1/2-inch-thick patties. Place remaining 1/3 cup cracker crumbs in shallow bowl. Press crab cakes into crubs, coating completely. (Can be prepared 3 hours ahead. Cover and refrigerate.)

Heat one tablespoon vegetable oil in heavy skillet over medium heat. Fry cakes until brown and crisp, about six minutes per side. Serve immediately with lemon wedges, hot sauce, and/or tartar sauce.

Bella topped them with** lemon-caper butter**:

2 teaspoons capers

2 to 3 tablespoons butter

grated zest of 1 lemon

1 teaspoon lemon juice

1 shallot, finely diced

1 teaspoon finely chopped parsley

1 teaspoon finely chopped basil

salt

freshly ground pepper

Rinse the capers, squeeze out the excess liquid, and roughly chop them. Work them into the butter with the rest of the ingredients. Season to taste with salt and pepper. Dab a teaspoon or so on top of each crab cake while it's still hot.

**Vichyssoise**

Again, courtesy of Julia Child.

4 cups slides leeks – the white part and a bit of the tender green.

4 cups diced potatoes (baking potatoes recommend)

5 to 6 cups water

1 ½ to 2 teaspooons salt, or to taste

2/3 cup or more heavy cream, optional.

Bring the leek, potatoes, and water to a boil in saucepan. Salt lightly, cover partially, and simmer 20 to 30 minutes, or until the vegetables are tender. Taste, and correct seasoning.

Cool slightly, then (carefully) puree the soup through a vegetable mill, or in a blender or food processor. Return the soup to the saucepan, and whisk in the the cream, simmering a moment to blend.

Chill the soup thoroughly before serving. Top each serving with ½ teaspoon of chives or parsley.

**Cream of Mushroom Soup**

2 cups water

1 cup dried wild mushrooms, any combination, morels if you can find them

¼ cup chopped shallots

1 teaspoon chopped garlic

1 tablespoon butter

2 cups vegetable broth

1 cup heavy cream

Boil the 2 cups of water and add dried mushrooms. Remove from heat and let sit at least 30 minutes. Remove the mushrooms with a slotted spoon, reserving the soaking water.

Saute the shallots and garlic in the butter over medium heat until translucent. Be careful not to brown them. Add the vegetable stock and mushrooms, and bring to a simmer. Cook until the mushrooms are tender. Cool slightly, then puree in a blender or food processor. Return the soup to the saucepan, and add cream to desired consistency. Simmer several minutes to blend flavors, thinning with mushroom stock if desired. Taste before seasoning with salt and pepper as some vegetable stocks can be very salty.

**Roasted Asparagus**

1 or 2 pounds of fresh asparagus

olive oil

salt and pepper

lemon juice, optional

Trim and discard the ends of each stalk of asparagus. Drizzle with olive oil and toss to coat thoroughly. Spread the stalks in a single layer on a baking sheet and sprinkle with salt and pepper, to taste, as well as a bit of fresh lemon juice, if desired. Roast in a preheated 400ºF oven for 20-25 minutes, depending on thickness of stalks and preferred doneness (is that a word?). I prefer vegetables to have a little 'bite,' like 'al dente' pasta, and this is a great, quick way to prepare almost any firm vegetable.

I think that's it for recipes I actually have, but feel free to PM me if you have any other requests or questions. I love to hear from you – kts.


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